N  MEMORIAM 


J864-S941 


Robert   Annys  :     Poor   Priest 


Robert  Annys :   Poor  Priest 


A  Tale  of  the  Great  Uprising 


By 


ANNIE   NATHAN    MEYER 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON  :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
IQOI 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,   1901, 
BY   THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY. 


Norfajooti 

J.  8.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Ma»i.  U.S.A. 


Gir 


TO   THE    READER 

ADMIRERS  of  William  Morris  —  among  whom 
I  count  all  his  readers  —  will  recognize  the  per 
sonal  description  of  John  Ball  as  taken  from  his 
"  A  Dream  of  John  Ball."  They  will  also  note 
that  some  parts  of  his  sermon  as  well  are  from 
the  same  book.  It  seemed  to  me  that  certain 
bits  of  Morris's  imaginative  work  were  too  fine 
and  true  to  be  spared  in  any  attempt  to  set  the 
blunt  old  poor  priest  before  the  modern  reader. 
I  have  no  fear  of  bearing  off  undeserved  palms ; 
for  just  as  a  few  of  the  sayings  of  John  Ball  bear 
the  marks  of  authenticity  too  clearly  upon  them 
to  be  mistaken  for  mine,  so  such  as  are  taken 
from  Morris  are  as  clearly  distinguished  by  the 
marjcs  of  supreme  beauty  and  genius. 

In  the  course  of  many  years  of  close  reading, 
it  is  inevitable  that  there  should  have  been  woven 
into  this  book  some  of  the  ideas  and  preposses 
sions  of  certain  Church  historians.  Although 
many  other  writers  have  been  exceedingly  help 
ful  and  suggestive,  I  want  especially  to  acknowl 
edge  my  indebtedness  to  Renan,  Kingsley,  Fisher, 
Baldwin  Brown,  Gosselin,  Braun,  Montalembert, 
Vincent,  and  Sheppard. 

iviMllSO 


ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR  PRIEST 
8[  ®ale  of  tlje  ffireat  Uprising 

I 

THE  great  Minster  of  the  Fens  never  looked 
lovelier  than  at  the  close  of  a  November  day,  1379. 
The  coloring  of  Fenland  is  not  attuned  to  the 
brightness  of  Spring  or  Summer,  but  there  is  in 
the  late  Autumn  a  subtle  quality  that  brings  out 
its  true  charm.  The  dull  browns  and  yellows  of 
the  marshes,  the  warm  red-browns  of  the  rushes, 
the  pale  greens  of  the  swamp  grasses  with  the 
glint  of  the  sun  low  down  at  their  feet,  —  all  on 
this  day  found  just  the  right  complement  in  the 
great,  heavy,  gray  clouds  that  broke  here  and 
there  only  to  show  irregular  bars  of  saffron  sky. 
Just  before  night  fell  there  was  one  supreme 
moment  when  a  patch  of  gold  lingered  in  the 
north  just  over  the  wonderful  octagon,  the  glori 
ous  crown  of  St.  Audrey,  and  the  great  west  front 
with  its  noble  tower  and  its  wealth  of  windows 
flung  the  orange  gleam  of  the  setting  sun  over 


?  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR  PRIEST 

the  landscape  as  a  gauntlet  proudly  thrown  in 
the  face  of  Night.  The  lordly  outlines  of  the 
vast  edifice  looked  lordlier  than  ever  as  the  slowly 
gathering  darkness  descended  and  drew  it  up  into 
itself. 

The  east  wind  blowing  from  over  the  sea,  pun 
gent  with  the  odor  of  marsh  plants,  was  keen, 
and  caused  a  man  who  was  surveying  the  scene 
to  gather  his  thin  gown  more  closely  about  him. 
Until  he  stirred,  this  man  might  almost  have  been 
taken  for  a  part  of  the  landscape,  so  admirably 
did  his  garb  of  coarse  russet  sacking  harmonize 
with  his  surroundings.  Although  he  shivered 
slightly,  he  did  not  move  from  his  position,  but 
remained  with  arms  tightly  folded  on  his  breast, 
and  his  deep-set  eyes  fixed  earnestly  upon  the 
solemn  pile  before  him.  A  solitary  figure  he 
stood  in  the  vast  stretch  of  sky  and  land,  and  he 
felt  himself  peculiarly  alone.  Yet  as  he  faced 
the  Cathedral  there  was  no  sign  of  faltering  or 
dread  in  his  face,  but  rather  a  distinct  note  of 
defiance. 

Not  long  before,  the  stately  procession  of 
priests  had  departed  from  the  Vesper  service. 
A  choir  boy  of  angelic  countenance,  but  impish 
spirit,  had  for  an  instant  trailed  his  violet  robe 
in  the  dust  and  flung  the  stone  he  picked  up 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  3 

straight  at  the  russet  form.  Not  a  priest  in  line 
but  envied  the  boy.  Outwardly,  the  russet  priest 
showed  no  sign.  He  thought  of  St.  Francis  who 
had  been  stoned  by  the  very  ones  who  later 
placed  those  stones  under  his  direction.  Also 
he  thought  of  the  stoning  of  One  greater  than 
St.  Francis. 

One  year  before,  at  Oxford,  Robert  Annys 
had  bidden  farewell  to  his  beloved  master,  John 
Wyclif,  and  had  become  one  of  his  noble  band 
of  poor  priests,  —  or  russet  priests,  as  they  were 
familiarly  dubbed,  —  who  went  about  the  country, 
preaching  the  Gospel  and  teaching  the  people 
how  to  read,  that  they  might  bring  Holy  Writ 
more  closely  into  their  lives.  As  a  student,  he 
had  passed  many  happy  years  by  the  side  of  his 
great  master  at  Balliol,  translating  the  Bible  into 
the  language  of  the  people  so  that  they  might 
come  to  know  God  and  love  God  by  themselves 
without  the  shadow  of  the  priestly  office  ever 
between.  Nevertheless,  although  he  had  been 
well  content  to  pass  all  his  life  in  that  beautiful 
manner,  when  the  time  came  that  his  master 
ordered  him  out  into  the  world,  he  went  without 
a  murmur  and  bravely,  empty  handed,  with  no 
more  thought  of  the  morrow  than  had  the  twelve 
whom  Christ  had  bidden  : — 


4  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR  PRIEST 

"  Take  nothing  for  your  journey,  neither  staff,  nor  wallet,  nor 
bread,  nor  money;  neither  have  two  coats." 


Since  then  he  had  lived  close  to  the  people,  he 
had  been  of  the  people.  He  had  come  to  them, 
not  with  the  crumbs  from  the  Communion  table 
but  with  the  strong  bread  of  life.  He  had 
preached  the  Gospel  in  the  fields  while  the  heat 
rose  in  palpitating  waves,  and  on  the  downs  while 
the  hail  beat  on  his  bare  head ;  he  had  prayed 
over  them  while  the  shears  dripped  white  from  the 
sheep  of  their  overlord;  he  had  hungered  with 
them  and  thirsted  with  them  and  shared  such 
coarse  food  as  they  had ;  he  had  watched  with 
them  as  some  worn  soul  departed  from  its  worn 
body.  His  way  had  led  to  no  sumptuous  ora 
tories  of  towered  castles,  to  no  cushioned  prie- 
dieux  in  scented  chambers.  He  had  shrived, 
not  grand  seigneurs  and  haughty  dames  whose 
momentary  comfort  had  been  disturbed  by  the 
pricking  of  a  superficial  regret,  but  strong,  simple 
souls  who  trembled  from  the  sway  of  tremendous 
feeling  — men  who  thirsted  for  the  blood  of  their 
child's  betrayer,  victims  who  raged  at  infamous 
injustice  and  brooded  over  desperate  means  to 
escape  their  thraldom.  No  lightly  felt  pecca 
dilloes  were  confessed  to  him,  but  the  agony  arid 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  5 

shame  of  those  whose  tortured  souls  hung  betwixt 
heaven  and  hell. 

And  he  had  grown  to  love  this  life.  He  had 
thought  to  have  a  peculiar  aptitude  for  letters,  and 
his  master  had  never  altered  translation  wrought 
by  him.  Yet  he  knew  now  that  his  gift  lay  rather 
in  swaying  men,  and  one  short  year  had  done 
much  to  make  his  name  known  from  Sussex  to 
Lincolnshire.  No  wonder,  then,  that  he  had  joy 
in  his  work,  (for  it  is  not  given  to  man  to  know 
greater  happiness  than  this :  to  watch  the  face  of 
a  fellow-man  kindle  with  a  new  and  great  hope, 
which  he  knows  he  has  planted  within  the 
other's  breast.  Yet  deep  down  within  there  had 
been  slowly  growing  in  his  heart  a  secret  ques 
tioning.  He  had  been  warned  by  his  master  to 
hold  himself  strictly  to  the  work  of  spreading  the 
knowledge  of  the  Gospel,  and  he  had  been  clearly 
enjoined  against  undoing  the  peace  of  the  realm 
and  setting  serfs  against  their  masters,  as  a  cer 
tain  mad  priest  named  John  Ball  was  even  at  that 
moment  doing,  both  by  the  reckless  violence  of 
his  language  and  the  revolutionary  quality  of  his 
theories.  It  was  easy  for  Wyclif  in  the  shelter 
of  the  University  to  warn  against  over-haste  and 
to  protest  that  education  must  come  before  a  last 
ing  reform  could  be  accomplished,  and  that  one 


6  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

must  build  on  solid  foundations  for  the  future.  It 
was  not  so  easy  for  the  wandering  poor  priest, 
with  the  sufferings  of  the  people  ever  before  him, 
to  refrain  from  pressing  the  Gospel  into  immedi 
ate  action.  Annys  began  very  soon  to  suspect 
that  it  was  impossible  to  feed  the  people  with  the 
knowledge  of  Holy  Writ  and  expect  no  indiges 
tion  to  come  from  the  strange  diet.  If  Life  truly 
began  to  be  tested  by  Holy  Writ,  some  idols  must 
fall  —  if  the  Church  Hierarchical,  alas  for  it !  If 
Christian  society  were  to  be  modelled  on  the  plain 
teachings  of  its  Founder,  some  strange  sights 
would  be  seen. 

Annys  had  not  needed  to  be  stoned  to  feel  rise 
up  within  him  a  fierce  hatred  toward  that  stately 
church  that  reared  its  head  so  haughtily  to 
heaven.  Ah,  truly  he  held  with  St.  Boniface  of 
old  that  u  in  the  catacombs  the  candlesticks  were 
of  wood,  but  the  priests  were  golden.  Now  the 
candlesticks  are  of  gold? 

That  morning,  when  he  preached  to  the  men  in 
the  fields  and  told  them  in  homely  language  of 
the  life  of  their  Lord  and  His  death  to  save  them, 
a  summons  had  come  from  the  Bishop  of  Ely  bid 
ding  Robert  Annys  appear  before  him.  And, 
wondering  what  the  Bishop  could  want  of  him 
(unless  to  order  him  peremptorily  from  his  dio- 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING  7 

cese,  in  which  case  it  was  scarcely  necessary  to  do 
so  in  person),  he  had  had  himself  rowed  over  the 
wide-spreading  meres  that  separated  the  isle  of 
Ely  from  the  mainland.  As  he  slowly  approached 
the  glorious  pile,  there  came  over  him  with  a  curi 
ous  stir  the  memory  of  that  King  Canute  who  had 
also  been  thus  rowed  across  and  who  had  bade 
the  oarsmen  pause  midway  that  he  might  listen  to 
the  beautiful  chanting  of  the  monks. 

Truth  to  tell,  for  all  his  passionate  disdain  for 
what  lay  outside  of  the  true  heart  of  Christianity, 
he  was  more  profoundly  moved  by  the  beauty  of 
Ely  Minster  than  he  would  have  dreamed  it  pos 
sible.  For  he  was  an  ardent  student  of  history, 
and  here  before  him  was  wrought  as  true  and 
noble  an  epic  as  ever  was  writ  on  parchment. 
Into  these  noble  arches  and  soaring  towers,  these 
delicate  pinnacles,  these  exquisite  traceries,  surely 
the  adoring  heart  of  Medievalism  had  lavishly 
poured  itself.  This  russet  priest  was  an  artist 
and  worshipped  beauty,  hence  he  could  not  look 
on  Ely  unmoved.  He  was  an  Englishman  to  the 
fingertips,  hence  he  could  not  stand  on  ground  so 
alive  with  heroic  traditions  and  not  thrill  to  the 
memory  of  them.  As  he  stood  there  in  the  gath 
ering  darkness  before  the  church,  he  saw  a  long 
struggle  before  him.  He  saw  the  Bishop  of  Ely 


8  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

and  the  whole  powerful  Church  of  Rome  leagued 
against  him.  And  why?  Because  he  followed 
Christ's  clear  mandates.  Yet  he  was  certain  that 
nothing  that  the  Hierarchy  could  do  would  con 
quer  him.  He  would  stand  to  the  end,  alone  if 
need  be,  but  fearlessly  true  to  his  convictions, 
true  to  the  master  who  had  sent  him  out  into  the 
world  to  do  His  work.  Something  of  the  grim  de 
termination  of  those  Saxons  of  old  entered  into 
him,  those  hardy  warriors  who  had  fought  so 
many  hundred  years  before  on  that  very  spot  and 
made  their  last  dogged  stand  against  the  con 
quering  Normans;  something,  too,  of  the  un 
daunted  will  of  that  old  monk-architect,  who,  even 
amid  the  roar  of  the  falling  walls  of  the  old  tower 
of  Ely,  had  conceived  the  great  new  tower,  the 
wonderful  octagon  which  was  unique  in  all 
England. 

No!  no  threat  of  imprisonment  or  other  punish 
ment  on  the  morrow  could  make  him  swerve  from 
the  course  he  had  chosen.  He  would  continue 
to  go  among  his  people  with  only  a  book  and  a 
bag.  His  people  who  awaited  him  among  the 
hayricks,  who  let  plough  rest  idle  in  the  furrow 
or  tossed  aside  the  spade  that  they  might  hearken 
to  him.  His  people  /  His  eyes  dimmed  with 
tears  as  he  thought  of  the  pathetic  figure  of  Piers 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING  9 

Ploughman  standing  in  the  fields,  the  light  of  a 
great  wonder  in  his  face,  —  Piers  in  the  condition 
of  a  man  who  has  had  his  eyes  bandaged  for  a 
long  time,  and  now  for  the  first  time  has  had 
the  bandage  removed.  In  the  strange  light  that 
now  bursts  upon  him  the  most  familiar  objects 
take  on  a  new  and  strange  appearance.  In  the 
transformation  that  is  going  on  about  him,  all 
that  his  honest  heart  has  held  stable,  omnipotent, 
eternal,  now  sways  unsteadily  before  him  :  Feudal 
Lords,  Sheriffs,  King's  men  and  Kings ;  Fees  in 
Tithe,  Manorial  Holdings,  Rights  of  Labor,  Acts 
of  Parliament,  and  even  Holy  Church  herself. 
No,  no,  come  what  may,  he  could  never  desert 
Piers  now :  — 

"  One  side  is  ... 
Popes,  cardinals,  and  prelates, 
Priours,  abbots  of  great  estates. 
The  other  side  ben  poor  and  pale ; 
And  seeme  caitives  sore  a-cale." 

The  night  closed  slowly  down  upon  the  Cathe 
dral.  At  last  its  great  mass  was  felt  rather  than 
seen. 

"  Thy  strength  against  mine,"  the  poor  priest 
murmured,  as  he  lingered  yet  an  instant. 

"  Thy  strength  against  mine." 


io  ROBERT  ANNYS:   POOR   PRIEST 


II 


THE  following  morning  Thomas  Goldynge, 
Bishop  of  Ely,  lay  in  bed  awaiting  those  to  whom 
he  had  promised  audience.  It  was  with  consid 
erable  curiosity  that  he  awaited  the  young  poor 
priest  whom  he  had  summoned.  He  sighed  with 
relief  as  he  realized  that  the  hard  fight  which  he 
had  waged  against  Rome  was  ended.  It  was  a 
contest  over  the  best  method  of  suppressing  the 
poor  priests,  and  it  had  taken  many  secret  embas 
sies  to  Rome,  and  many  letters  in  cipher  sent  to 
trusted  friends  at  the  Papal  Court.  Indeed,  it  had 
looked  at  one  time  as  if  the  Bishop  himself,  aged 
as  he  was,  would  have  to  undertake  the  long  and 
tedious  journey  to  the  Holy  City,  for  the  Bishop 
looked  upon  this  matter  as  one  of  vital  importance 
to  the  Church.  He  agreed  with  the  Papal  Legate 
that  the  incendiary  preaching  of  the  poor  priests 
must  be  stamped  out,  but  he  had  some  theories 
of  his  own  as  to  this  stamping-out  process,  and 
persecution  bore  no  part  in  them.  He,  more  than 
any  other  Churchman,  realized  that  the  English 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  n 

people  needed  careful  handling.  How  was  the 
Italian  Legate  to  understand  anything  of  the 
rage  and  indignation  that  were  growing  up  in 
the  hearts  of  the  English  against  foreign  subjec 
tion,  against  a  Church  that  gave  the  best  sees  in 
the  land  to  Italians  who  scarce  deigned  to  make 
acquaintance  with  the  very  outsides  of  their 
churches  ?  The  substance  of  the  people  was  being 
wrung  from  them  to  help  the  cause  of  their  bit 
ter  enemies.  The  King  of  England  had  little  or 
nothing  left  for  his  needs  because  the  Church 
refused  to  give  up  one  tittle  of  its  moneys  for  the 
good  of  the  realm.  Goldynge  was  an  Englishman, 
and  he  had  struggled  all  his  life  to  place  English 
men  in  English  churches.  He  was  against  the 
new  spirit  of  Nationalism,  however,  when  it 
asserted  itself  against  the  most  sacred  preroga 
tives  of  the  Church,  for  he  could  look  far  ahead 
and  see  that  this  spirit  might  become  powerful 
enough  to  wreck  the  Church  Universal  and  give 
birth  in  England  to  a  Church  that  would  forswear 
all  allegiance  to  Rome.  He  was  for  doing  all  in 
his  power  to  redress  the  wrongs  of  the  people  and 
keep  the  breach  from  widening,  for  Holy  Church 
had  about  all  the  schisms  it  could  well  take  care 
of  for  some  time  to  come. 

When  Robert  Annys  was  ushered  in  with  head 


12  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

flung  well  back  and  every  line  in  the  lithe  young 
body  eloquent  of  a  proud  defiance,  the  Bishop 
raised  himself  on  the  pillow  and  looked  long  and 
eagerly  into  his  face.  Therein  he  read  all  that  he 
had  counted  to  find.  In  the  deep-set  eyes,  the 
high,  narrow  brow,  the  sensitive  mouth,  the  deli 
cately  chiselled  chin,  there  were  revealed  to  the 
shrewd  old  prelate  the  enthusiastic  temperament 
of  a  reformer,  the  idealism  of  a  poet,  the  puis 
sant  desire  to  work,  to  change,  to  remake.  And 
also,  and  therein  lay  his  secret  satisfaction,  he 
read  the  fine  acumen  of  a  critic.  A  dangerous 
quality  that,  which  was  certain  to  make  war  upon 
the  other  qualities  that  struggled  in  his  breast. 
Here  was  before  him  no  blunt  fanatic  like  John 
Ball,  flying  as  unswervingly  to  his  goal  as  the 
arrow  shot  from  the  bow,  but  one  with  the  dis 
cerning  mind  that  weighs,  discriminates,  and  looks 
far  enough  ahead  to  see  its  own  heart-break  at  the 
end. 

"  You  sent  for  me  ?  "  although  the  tone  was 
defiant,  it  was  less  so  than  Annys  had  intended  it. 
Somehow  he  found  it  hard  to  be  arrogant  to  this 
gentle  old  man  whose  flowing  locks  looked  whiter 
than  ever  against  the  deep  red  of  the  bed-curtains. 
Only  a  beautiful  old  man  upon  his  couch,  looking 
at  him  with  dim  kindly  eyes  and  a  mouth  that 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  13 

smiled.  Far  rather  would  he  have  faced  a  haughty 
prelate  in  rustling  robes — that  would  have  roused 
him  and  strengthened  him  in  his  hatred  of  all  for 
which  a  Bishop  stood. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  man,  very  gently,  "  I  have 
sent  for  thee,  for  I  have  heard  much  of  this  russet 
priest  who  sways  great  bodies  of  men  as  they 
hearken  to  him,  even  as  row  upon  row  of  corn  is 
swayed  by  the  wind  that  blows  across  the  fields. 
I  wished  to  see  him  and  hold  converse  with  him." 

"  Why  should  I  come  here  before  you  that  you 
may  look  upon  me  ?  I  owe  no  allegiance  to  the 
Bishop  of  Ely.  I  serve  him  not,  I  serve  only  my 
master,  John  Wyclif." 

"And  our  Master,  Jesus  Christ?"  mildly  inter 
posed  the  Bishop. 

"  Yea,  I  serve  my  Master,  Jesus  Christ,"  as 
serted  the  poor  priest,  "  but  "  —  he  was  annoyed 
to  find  that  the  words  in  his  heart  did  not  rise 
so  easily  to  his  tongue  as  he  would  have  them 
do.  He  felt  the  old  man's  eyes  gravely  fixed  upon 
him. 

"  But  ? "  he  suggested  with  sedate  politeness 
—  "but?" 

The  young  man  reddened  with  discomfiture, 
but  remained  silent. 

"  I  beg  of   you    to   go   on,"  said    the    Bishop, 


14  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

suavely;  "we  are  quite  alone.  I  have  sent  for 
you  to  understand  what  is  in  your  heart,  and  I 
would  that  you  open  it  to  me  without  fear." 

The  word  stung  the  poor  priest  as  the  older 
man  knew  it  would. 

"  Fear?  I  have  no  fear.  What  should  I  fear? 
I  would  say  that  one  cannot  serve  two  masters 
at  one  time,  the  one  Christ,  the  other  Antichrist. 
I  do  not  see  that  one  can  bear  at  one  and  the 
same  time  the  pectoral  cross  and  the  cross  of 
Christ  Jesus." 

It  was  now  the  Bishop's  turn  to  redden,  but  he 
only  bit  his  lip  for  an  instant  and  then  smiled 
frankly.  "  I  understand,"  he  said,  "  I  have  heard 
somewhat  of  this  kind  of  thing  before.  You  poor 
priests  claim  that  Christ  founded  no  cathedrals,  and 
that  He  worked  with  fishermen  instead  of  Bishops. 
I  know  ye  would  like  to  see  the  palaces  of  Bishops 
razed  to  the  ground  that  bread  might  be  placed 
between  the  lips  of  the  hungry,  the  gold  of  the 
altars  melted  that  it  might  run  into  the  purse  of 
the  poor.  As  your  poet  hath  it, 

"'Let  Bishops'  horses  become  beggars'  chambers. 

Is  that  not  it  ?  " 

His  listener  folded  his  arms  tightly  over  his 
breast  and  nodded  for  answer. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  15 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  ah,  yes,"  continued  the  Bishop,  mus 
ingly,  "  do  I  not  know  ?  Was  I  not  even  as  thou 
in  my  youthful  days  ?  But  I  am  an  old  man 
now,  and  many  things  lie  bathed  in  the  clear 
white  light  of  knowledge  that  then  lay  darkly 
shrouded  in  mystery.  My  dear  son,  you  are  only 
one  of  many  who  fix  their  eyes  on  what  should 
have  been,  instead  of  on  what  really  was.  Ye 
bury  your  faces  within  the  pages  of  the  Bible, 
and  if  ye  look  up  once  to  see  what  is  going  on 
about  you,  it  is  only  to  contrast  with  impatience 
the  teaching  and  example  of  the  Church  Visible 
with  the  teaching  and  example  of  Christ  and  His 
disciples.  Ye  are  willing  to  look  on  the  Church 
as  it  now  is,  and  God  knows  there  are  faults  and 
crimes  enough  to  excuse  some  of  your  impa 
tience,  but  ye  refuse  to  look  at  the  history  of  the 
Church,  and  at  the  magnificent  service  it  has  ren 
dered  in  the  cause  of  humanity.  Ye  refuse  to 
consider  gravely  and  seriously  the  work  that  it  has 
accomplished,  and  to  ask  yourselves  if  any  other 
human  agency  could  have  done  a  tenth  as  well. 
You  critics  are  as  men  who  have  been  saved  by 
a  bridge  from  a  wild  and  devastating  stream,  and 
now  once  safely  crossed,  ye  kneel  down  —  not  to 
thank  God  Almighty  for  having  saved  you,  but 
to  detect  the  flaws  in  the  bridge." 


1 6  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Annys  could  not  but  be  moved  by  the  elo 
quence  of  the  old  man.  He  began  to  understand 
something  of  the  great  power  which  had  been 
wielded  from  the  throne  of  Ely.  Yet  he  waited 
not  with  his  answer,  "  Christianity  is  no  longer 
the  Church  of  Christ,  it  is  the  Church  of  Rome. 
Why  keep  up  the  pretence  longer  ?  I  am  but 
seeking  to  bring  the  people  back  to  Christ  as  St. 
Francis  did  before  me." 

"  Ay  !  as  St.  Francis  did  before  you.  He  was 
so  sure  that  all  the  world  needed  was  the  Word 
and  his  Rule  of  Poverty.  Well,  how  many  years 
after  his  death  was  it  that  the  people  complained 
to  the  authorities  of  the  great  wealth  of  the 
Franciscan  monasteries  ?  " 

Annys  remained  silent. 

u  The  Church  is  a  more  intricate  matter  than 
any  one  Book  or  any  one  Rule,"  went  on  the 
Bishop.  "  Why  think  you  it  was  that  the  wolves 
of  the  north,  as  St.  Jerome  well  called  them,  those 
wild  tribes  of  Franks  and  Burgundians,  of  Vandals 
and  Goths  and  Visigoths,  savage  as  their  onslaught 
was,  yet  paused  in  the  face  of  Rome  ?  Was  it  not 
because  the  Churchmen  at  the  critical  time  were 
no  idle  dreamers,  but  the  greatest  statesmen  the 
world  ever  saw  ?  Ah,  my  son,  if  temporal  power 
meant  a  fall  from  the  early  apostolic  Church, 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  17 

do  not  forget  that  it  was  a  fall  brought  about  by 
the  very  greatness  of  its  own  servants.  It  was 
to  the  early  Bishops  that  the  world  was  forced  to 
look  for  its  rulers  when  the  reins  of  government 
were  slipping  from  the  weak  hands  of  all  others. 
It  was  Cyprian  at  Carthage,  Jerome  and  Leo  at 
Rome,  Ambrose  at  Milan,  Augustine  in  Africa, 
Boniface  at  the  court  of  Pepin,  Martin  at  Tours, 
Hilary  at  Poitiers,  and  Marcel  at  Paris  who  were 
doing  the  work  of  the  world.  It  is  easy  to  speak 
of  the  Pope's  need  for  Charles  the  Great  when 
he  placed  the  diadem  of  the  Caesars  on  the  Prank 
ish  Emperor's  brow ;  yet  if  Leo  needed  Charles, 
Charles  needed  Leo,  as  well,  and  we  do  not  quite 
so  often  hear  that.  My  son,  the  mitre  has  resisted 
many  a  blow  that  would  have  shattered  the  sword." 
"  Ah,  but  how  much  finer  had  the  Church  of 
Christ  been  built  up  even  as  Solomon  would  have 
had  it,  if  it  could  have  truly  been  said  of  the  Head 
of  the  Church:  — 

" '  He  shall  not  put  his  trust  in  horse  or  rider,  and  bow,  nor 
shall  he  multiply  unto  himself  gold  and  silver  for  war,  for  he 
shall  smite  the  earth  with  the  word  of  his  mouth.'  " 

"  A  beautiful  dream,  no  more,  my  son.  Take 
the  Crusades ;  how  easy  is  it  for  critics  to  aver 
that  an  intriguing  Pope  started  them  to  increase 
his  own  glory  and  gratify  his  sense  of  power. 


i8  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Yet  hast  ever  thought  whether  the  peoples  of 
Europe  would  not  have  fallen  upon  and  destroyed 
one  another  but  for  the  wise  craft  of  a  leader 
who  united  them  by  finding  a  common  enemy  ? 
Now  do  not  misunderstand  me ;  no  one  more 
than  I  realizes  the  awful  sins  of  the  Schismatic 
Popes,  the  terrible  greed  of  some  of  the  power 
ful  Churchmen,  their  criminal  neglect  of  their 
charges ;  no  one  realizes  more  that  the  people 
have  wrongs  that  should  be  righted.  But  I  am 
sure  it  is  for  the  good  of  the  people  that  these 
wrongs  be  righted  from  within  the  Church.  The 
people  have  no  better  friend  than  the  Church.  It 
has  been  the  one  Institution  which  has  sought 
out  the  individual,  and  asked  of  him  only  what 
service  he  could  render  it.  In  its  bosom  it  has 
held  the  divine  spark  of  the  equality  of  man,  and 
kept  it  there  and  protected  it  while  the  world  was 
not  yet  ready  for  it.  It  has  nourished  it  until  it 
will  be  a  flame  great  enough  to  light  the  torch  of 
Freedom. 

"  We  agree,  save  that  you  think  the  world  is 
ripe  for  that  spark,  and  I  know  that  it  is  not ; 
loosed  now,  it  will  but  scorch  and  sear ;  it  is  not 
ready  to  illumine." 

Annys  had  listened  with  profound  earnestness 
to  the  impetuous  words  of  the  great  prelate ;  be- 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING  19 

fore  he  could    respond,   the   speaker   continued, 
with  a  great  light  of  enthusiasm  in  his  face :  — 

"  Think  on  the  refrain  which  you  know  well. 
Con  it  when  you  are  tempted  to  think  that  the 
Church  has  done  naught  for  the  people :  — 

" '  Had  they  (the  priests)  been  out  of  religion, 

They  must  have  hanged  at  the  plowe. 
Threshing  and  diking  fro  towne  to  towne, 
With  sorrie  meat,  and  not  halfe  ynovve.' 

"What  can  that  mean,  save  that  the  Church 
hath  taken  up  into  its  bosom  the  men  who  other 
wise  had  no  career  save  the  plough  ?  True,  the 
time  has  come  when  the  Church  once  again  needs 
to  be  drawn  nearer  to  the  people  —  the  people 
who  all  yearn  for  it  and  need  it.  Do  not  lead  the 
people  away  from  it,  lest  in  the  end  you  destroy 
their  faith  and  undo  them.  The  Church  needs 
just  such  workers  as  thou ;  come  to  us  and  work 
with  us.  Stand  no  longer  without !  " 

At  this  appeal,  the  young  poor  priest  suddenly 
roused  himself. 

"  What  ?  stand  no  longer  without !  work  with 
you !  with  a  Church  whose  head  hath  launched 
bull  after  bull  against  my  master  and  his  teach 
ings  ?  Come  within  a  Church  that  sets  the  ruling 
of  a  man  above  the  words  of  Holy  Writ  ?  The 
chief  article  of  my  creed  is  that  the  Gospel  suffices 


20  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

for  the  salvation  of  Christians  without  the  keeping 
of  ceremonials  and  statutes  that  have  been  made 
by  sinful  and  unknowing  men.  What  work  has 
Holy  Church  for  me  ?  Surely  there  are  others 
who  can  mouth  more  glibly  than  I  the  words  of 
the  Mass,  and  who  are  more  deeply  versed  in  the 
labyrinths  of  canonical  lore." 

"  What  canst  thou  ? "  replied  the  Bishop,  warmly, 
"  everything !  Once  within  the  Church,  thou  canst 
raise  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures,  beat  down 
the  vicious  barriers  that  exist  between  the  peo 
ple  and  the  prelates.  Remember,  one  blow  from 
within  counts  for  ten  from  without.  Come  within, 
and  help  me  in  my  fight  against  foreigners  who 
care  naught  for  the  people  who  are  their  charge, 
foreigners  who  never  deign  to  approach  these 
shores,  save  perchance  to  count  the  moneys  that 
are  yielded  from  their  sees."  Then  with  a  swift 
change  his  voice  softened,  and  there  was  a  pathetic 
appeal  in  it.  "  I  have  fought  hard  for  more  than 
thirty  years,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  am  worn  in  body 
and  spirit ;  if  I  die  to-morrow  without  providing 
for  a  successor,  doubtless  all  that  I  have  accom 
plished  will  be  as  naught.  The  old  conditions 
in  this  diocese  will  arise  again.  There  are  many 
priests  and  abbots  —  ay!  and  some  higher  than 
they  —  who  will  click  their  heels  gleefully  over 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  21 

my  grave.  Come  to  Ely  and  be  its  Archdeacon. 
I  —  nay!  —  the  Church  of  Christ  has  need  of 
thee.  Come ! " 

The  poor  priest  was  astounded.  How  could 
this  be  that  the  archdeaconate  of  Ely  should  be 
offered  to  a  poor  priest,  one  of  Wyclifs  band,  so 
distrusted  and  hated  by  Rome  ? 

"  You,  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  you  offer  me  this  ? 
It  is  no  jest  ?  " 

The  Bishop  smiled.  "  Well,  I  do  not  mind 
confessing  that  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  bring 
about.  Yet  why  should  we  go  on  permitting  you 
to  take  people  away  from  the  Church  ?  I  am 
persuaded  that  the  people  need  the  Church  as 
much  as  the  Church  needs  the  people.  They 
have  your  confidence ;  I  want  you  to  bring  them 
back  to  the  altar." 

"  But,  Father,  the  instant  I  doff  this  russet 
gown  and  don  the  albe  and  stole,  that  instant  the 
people's  confidence  in  me  is  gone." 

"  I  cannot  believe  it  has  gone  so  far  as  that." 

"  Yea,  I  say  it.  It  is  too  late  to  try  to  drag  the 
people  back.  They  have  grown  weary  of  having 
fat  and  lazy  priests  prate  to  them,  with  white  hand 
on  full  belly,  of  patience  and  humility  and  duty 
to  their  overlords.  Why  do  the  people  believe  in 
me  ?  Why  do  they  follow  me  ?  Because  they 


22  ROBERT   ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

wot  well  that  my  meals  are  as  uncertain  as  their 
own,  that  my  face  is  roughened  by  the  same  wind 
that  roughens  theirs.  Because  I  can  look  into 
their  faces  and  say,  '  I  too  have  a-hungered,  I  too 
have  a-thirsted,  I  too  have  sweated  in  the  fields.' ' 

The  Bishop  looked  very  old  and  tired.  A  sob 
rose  suddenly  in  the  poor  priest's  throat.  To  his 
own  surprise,  suddenly  he  flung  himself  upon  his 
knees  before  the  couch. 

"  Little  thought  I,  Father,  when  I  came  here 
with  defiance  and  distrust  in  my  heart,  that  I 
would  fling  myself  on  my  knees  before  you ;  yet 
it  is  true  that  I  feel  it  as  a  great  personal  sorrow 
that  I  cannot  both  stay  with  you  and  also  answer 
the  call  of  my  master.  But  I  cannot  desert  my 
people.  Where  they  turn  up  the  soil,  where  they 
guide  the  plough,  where  their  tired  backs  bend, 
where  the  wind  and  the  hail  beat  down  upon 
them  in  the  fields,  there  is  my  place,  and  there  I 
must  go." 

The  Bishop's  sensitive  face  quivered  with  emo 
tion.  He  remained  silent  an  instant  and  then 
looked  up  into  the  young  man's  face.  "  Wilt 
promise  me  one  thing  ?  " 

"  If  I  can,  Father." 

"  Wilt  preach  the  sermon  in  the  Cathedral  next 
Sunday  ? " 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING  23 

Annys  hesitated  an  instant  before  he  replied. 
"  Only  to  give  the  sermon,"  he  stipulated. 

"  I  shall  celebrate  the  Mass  myself.  I  would 
like  you  to  give  the  sermon  just  as  you  are. 
There  will  be  a  goodly  number  of  people,  and  it 
is  my  whim  that  you  should  be  heard  once  from 
the  pulpit.  It  will  come  with  a  new  authority. 
Besides,"  he  added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  I 
should  like  to  have  some  of  our  priests  hear  it. 
It  might  not  be  a  bad  thing  for  the  Nuncio  him 
self." 

And  thus,  before  he  departed,  Robert  Annys 
had  given  his  promise  to  deliver  the  sermon  on 
the  following  Sunday  at  Ely. 

The  Bishop  did  not  yet  acknowledge  himself 
defeated.  Well  he  knew  the  magnetism  of  the 
wonderful  old  church.  Well  he  knew  that  men 
did  not  preach  before  three  thousand  souls  in  Ely 
Minster  and  then  lightly  step  forth  on  their  way 
again. 


24  ROBERT   ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 


III 

THE  following  Sunday  a  great  concourse  of 
people  flocked  to  the  Cathedral.  There  was 
much  curiosity  concerning  the  sermon  of  the 
poor  priest.  Many  who  for  years  had  been  accus 
tomed  on  the  plea  of  ill-health  or  old  age  to  ask 
for  a  stave  for  support  during  the  long  service, 
now  passed  by  the  doorkeeper  oblivious  of  every 
thing  save  their  desire  to  secure  a  good  place  in 
which  to  stand. 

To  begin  with,  sermons  were  growing  infre 
quent.  In  some  churches  they  had  fallen  into 
complete  disuse,  and  it  had  been  necessary  for  the 
"Father  Bishops"  to  enjoin  "upon  ail  those  that 
had  under  them  the  cure  of  souls  openly  in  English 
upon  Sundays  to  preach  and  teach  them  that  they 
know  God  Almighty." 

And  even  when  there  was  a  sermon,  it  fre 
quently  turned  out  to  be  upon  some  light  and 
immoral  bit  from  Ovid  or  Boccaccio  taken  as  a 
text,  while  the  people  hungered  for  the  words  of 
the  Gospel.  Or  perhaps  some  formal  schoolman 
would  preach  upon  the  seven  works  of  mercy,  or 
the  seven  spiritual  sins  :  "  Pride  —  that  lyking  of 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  25 

office  and  high  state,  Envy — that  sorrowe  at  the 
syte  of  welefare  and  ioy,  Anger  —  that  wykkyde 
stirrynge  of  herte,  Gluttony  —  that  lufe  in  taste 
of  mete  and  drynke,  Covetousness,  Sloth,  and 
Lechery,"  —  to  which  last  were  always  tacked  on 
for  good  measure,  —  "  Fornication,  Adultery,  and 
Incest." 

Holy  Father!  of  what  use  was  it  to  hear  a 
description  of  these  sins.  They  were  familiar 
enough  to  all.  What  they  wanted  was  some  hope 
and  comfort  in  their  daily  life,  some  counsel  in 
their  daily  struggles,  some  love  to  help  them  bear 
their  daily  burdens.  And  it  was  pretty  certain 
that  the  poor  priest  would  give  them  that.  When 
at  last  a  priest  approached  the  altar  and  lit  the 
tall  wax  candles,  full  three  thousand  persons  were 
glad  that  their  patient  wait  was  at  an  end. 

The  ringing  of  the  great  bells  of  the  Cathedral 
and  the  breaking  forth  of  the  organ  into  sound 
announced  the  arrival  of  the  Bishop.  The  stately 
procession  appeared,  blazing  a  sinuous  path  of 
light  and  color  through  the  dim  spaces  of  the 
chancel.  First  came  an  acolyte  bearing  the  cen 
ser,  followed  by  the  cross-bearer  carrying  the 
great  cross  and  escorted  on  either  side  by  boys 
with  tall  lighted  tapers  in  their  hands.  After 
them  followed  the  entire  body  of  clergy,  the 


26  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Bishop,  resplendent  in  his  robes,  leaning  slightly 
upon  the  two  assistant  deacons  who  accompanied 
him.  In  his  left  hand  he  held  the  beautiful  pas 
toral  staff,  while  the  right  hand  was  somewhat 
elevated,  as  was  meet,  to  bless  such  of  the  faithful 
as  might  come  upon  his  way.  In  the  midst  of  all 
the  splendor  of  violet  and  gold  and  swaying  lights 
walked  one  slender  figure  in  plain  russet  sacking, 
a  living  protest  against  all  the  pomp  and  magnifi 
cence  that  surrounded  him. 

Impressive  figure !  No  buskins  of  cloth  of 
gold  on  those  feet,  no  annice  of  pure  white 
linen  about  his  head,  no  long  linen  albe  reach 
ing  to  his  heels,  no  girdle  of  white  tasselled 
silk.  From  those  slender  shoulders  hung  no 
dalmatic  gorgeous  with  embroidered  border,  nor 
graceful  chasuble  of  fine  velvet  studded  with  rare 
pearls.  Only  a  simple,  bareheaded,  poor  priest 
in  a  garb  which  had  become  a  familiar  sight 
enough  in  the  fields  of  harrowed  earth  or  among 
the  rows  of  waving  corn,  but  here  in  the  Cathedral 
a  strange  prophetic  figure,  portending  the  begin 
ning  of  the  end  —  the  end  of  a  priesthood  that 
would  act  before  the  people,  the  beginning  of  a 
priesthood  that  would  act  for  the  people;  the 
end  of  the  sway  of  the  mortmain  with  its  icy 
touch  of  the  past,  the  beginning  of  the  sway  of 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING  27 

the  living  hand,  red  with  the  quickly  flowing 
blood,  warm  with  the  throbbing  sense  of  the 
fellowship  of  man. 

Through  the  hearts  of  the  vast  congregation 
the  solemn  service  swept,  majestic,  sublime,  stu 
pendous  in  its  power.  Power?  Everything  spoke 
of  power.  Power,  power,  power — the  power  of 
the  lesser  clergy,  the  power  of  deacons  and  arch 
deacons,  the  power  of  Bishops  and  Archbishops, 
the  power  of  the  Papal  Legate,  the  power  of  the 
Pope,  the  power  of  Mighty  —  Imperial  Rome. 
What  though  the  note  of  the  prayers  was  always 
humility?  What  knew  the  people  of  the  Latin 
words  that  rose  to  Heaven  ?  What  though  the 
exquisitely  intoned  phrases  of  the  Bishop  were  all 
a  self-confessed  unworthiness  to  appear  before  the 
Lord?  There  was  none  of  it  observable  in  the 
stately  motions  of  the  celebrant.  What  though 
he  cast  himself  upon  his  knees  and  cried  out,  "  I 
am  an  unclean  sinner !  Oh,  wash  me,  dear  Lord, 
from  all  the  stains  of  sin"?  What  the  people 
saw  was  a  proud  prelate  in  superb  dalmatic, 
wearing  a  golden  mitre  and  carrying  a  jewelled 
crozier.  To  them  he  was  the  great  Bishop  of 
Ely,  Peer  of  the  realm,  Lord  of  many  towns, 
holder  of  many  manors,  possessor  of  ten  great 
palaces  of  residence. 


28  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Little  by  little  the  people's  part  in  the  service 
had  shrunk,  until  now  the  Mass  was  frankly  but 
a  great  and  magnificent  spectacle  performed  be 
fore  them,  the  choir  and  the  clergy  taking  upon 
themselves  the  responses  that  once  had  been  the 
duty  of  the  congregation.  It  was  well  for  the 
people  to  know  when  to  kneel,  when  to  bow  the 
head,  and  when  to  genuflect.  Also  it  was  well  to 
remember  that  the  devil  writes  down  every  word 
said  during  Mass.  Every  one  knew  by  heart  the 
tale  which  St.  Augustine  related  to  St.  Gregory 
the  Great,  of  the  two  chattering  women  and  the 
fiend.  And  it  was  well  to  know  that  a  special 
indulgence  is  granted  to  all  that  kiss  the  ground 
when  the  Mass  is  ended. 

As  the  beautiful  service  took  its  course,  the 
young  poor  priest,  who  had  come  with  a  sneer  on 
his  lips,  found  himself  more  profoundly  stirred 
than  he  would  have  liked  to  confess  —  even  to 
himself.  While  in  the  sacristy,  he  had  been  dis 
gusted  at  the  levity  of  the  priests  who  stood  about 
in  evident  indifference  while  the  Bishop  was  be 
ing  most  augustly  invested.  Small  wonder  that 
they  weaned  of  the  infinitude  of  detail  performed 
before  their  eyes  week  after  week  without  varia 
tion  of  a  motion  or  a  word.  It  was  the  supreme 
genius  of  Rome  to  enforce  obedience  to  its  slight- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  29 

est  demand.  It  was  beyond  even  that  genius  to 
infuse  life  into  the  performance.  Annys  looked 
about  him  during  the  investiture  with  a  sickening 
sense  of  the  futility  of  it  all.  From  the  putting 
on  of  the  sandals  to  the  last  act  of  handing  the 
Bishop  his  beautifully  embroidered  gloves  (the 
deacon  handing  him  the  right  one,  the  subdea- 
con  the  left  one)  there  must  be  no  one  prayer  or 
form  omitted.  The  prelate  must  be  surrounded 
by  eight  acolytes  upon  their  knees,  the  acolytes  and 
deacons  who  touch  the  episcopal  vestments  must 
first  wash  their  hands,  the  acolytes  must  elevate  the 
vestments,  then  they  are  solemnly  passed  over  to 
the  deacons  who  do  the  actual  enrobing.  As  the 
Bishop  receives  each  one  of  the  nine  different 
articles,  he  must  kiss  each  one  and  then  murmur 
the  appropriate  prayer  for  each. 

What  had  all  this  to  do  with  the  telling  of 
"  Christ  and  him  crucified  ?  "  Alack  for  the  holy 
Church  of  Christ ! 

Yet,  once  within  the  noble  interior  of  the  Ca 
thedral,  it  was  impossible  not  to  fall  completely 
under  the  sway  of  the  wonderful  Art  that  had 
squandered  itself,  not  alone  on  the  general  con 
ception,  but  on  each  slightest  detail  of  arch  or 
pillar,  so  that  the  least  touch  of  the  humblest 
stonecutter  revealed  the  presence  of  Genius. 


30  ROBERT  ANNYS :   POOR   PRIEST 

The  mind  was  caught  up  and  lifted  to  God  by  the 
exquisite  delicacy  and  grace  of  execution.  If  it 
was  but  the  carving  of  a  single  oak  leaf,  it  was 
done  so  that  the  breath  of  the  woods  stirred  in 
the  perfect  turning  of  the  serrated  edge. 

And  the  ponderous,  throbbing  voice  of  the 
organ,  how  it  overwhelmed  him !  And  the  an 
gelic  sweetness  of  the  trained  boy  voices,  how  it 
thrilled  through  him !  The  tears  rose  to  his 
eyes.  He  was  in  the  presence  of  a  Beauty,  of  a 
Harmony,  the  very  faintest  shadow  of  which  he 
could  not  possibly  have  conceived.  His  will  lay 
dormant,  a  kind  of  stupor  of  deadly  sweetness 
crept  over  him.  Not  one  sense  that  was  not  sub 
jugated,  not  one  emotion  that  was  not  played  upon. 
There  crept  into  his  heart  a  whisper  that  perhaps 
after  all  there  was  something  in  religion  that  was 
not  summed  up  in  just  a  man  and  a  book.  Emo 
tions  hitherto  unknown  thrilled  through  him  as 
he  sat  there  with  the  wonderful  service  going  on 
about  them.  Once  he  came  unexpectedly  in  con 
tact  with  the  coarse  sacking  of  his  gown,  and  raged 
against  the  harsh  touch ;  he  wanted  to  feel  silk  and 
linen  between  his  fingers. 

"  Benedicamus  Patri  et  Filio  :  cum  Spiritu  Sancto," 
the   sweetish   fumes    of   the    incense    penetrated 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING  31 

through  the  vast  edifice.     He  forgot  his  dislike 
of  the  pagan  custom. 

"Gloria   in  excelsis  Deo.     Et  in  terra   pax  hominibus  bonse 
voluntatis  " 

rang  out  from  the  choir,  while  the  strong  chords 
of  the  organ  filled  the  great  spaces  and  made  them 
vibrate.  His  soul  swooned  in  exaltation. 
"  Laudamus  te,  Benedicimus  te,  Adoramus  te,  Glorificamus  te." 
Yes,  yes,  he  adored.  He  must  have  been  mad 
to  refuse  to  spend  his  life  ever  within  this  glorious 
Minster,  ever  within  sight  of  these  beautiful  vistas, 
ever  within  hearing  of  these  heavenly  sounds. 
He  would  go  immediately  after  the  service  to  the 
Bishop  and  confess  his  error.  Fool,  fool  that  he 
had  been  to  hesitate.  Was  it  now  too  late  ? 
Would  the  Mass  never  be  over  that  he  could  fling 
himself  once  again  before  the  Bishop  ? 

"  O  Lamb  of  God  that  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  have 
mercy  upon  us.  O  Lamb  of  God  that  takest  away  the  sins  of 
the  world,  grant  us  peace." 

Yes,  peace,  peace  at  any  price.  That  was  all 
that  his  soul  now  yearned  for.  Could  anything 
be  more  divine  than  that  exquisite  refrain  ? 

"Agnus  Dei." 

Could  the  most  hardened  sinner  listen  unmoved 
to  that  celestial  music  ?  He  recalled  the  words 
of  the  Bishop  —  the  savage  wolves  of  the  north 


32  ROBERT  ANNYS:   POOR   PRIEST 

pausing  in  the  face  of  this  —  the  great,  visible, 
tangible  power  of  the  Spirit.  Oh,  he  could  not 
wait  to  confess  to  the  Bishop  how  foolish  and  stiff- 
necked  he  had  been.  He,  Robert  Annys,  could 
be  the  Archdeacon  of  Ely  and  he  had  refused  it. 
And  yet,  accompanying  the  strong  emotional 
exaltation,  there  came  slowly  over  him  a  sense  of 
helplessness,  as  if  a  net  were  closing  tightly  down 
over  him,  until  there  was  no  escape  from  its 
entangling  meshes.  He  felt  the  awful  eye  of 
Rome  upon  him,  the  eye  before  which  Barbarian 
chiefs,  and  Emperors  as  well,  had  quailed.  It  was 
not  alone  that  the  Papal  Legate  sat  there  before 
him,  -the  presence  of  Rome  was  felt  in  every  one 
of  the  countless  forms  of  the  Rubric.  In  the  ring 
ing  of  the  sacring  bell,  here  twice,  there  thrice ; 
the  position  of  the  deacon  and  the  subdeacon 
as  the  celebrant  chants  the  Introit ;  the  kiss 
ing  and  the  incensing  of  the  various  articles  that 
are  used  in  the  service,  the  facing  of  the  altar  here, 
and  the  facing  of  the  congregation  there  ;  the  put 
ting  on  of  the  mitre  and  the  taking  it  off ;  the  angle 
of  the  body  in  the  various  degrees  of  bowing  ;  the 
precise  position  of  the  second  and  third  fingers  ; 
the  placing  of  the  veil  over  the  host,  slightly  lower 
on  the  right  than  on  the  left  side ;  and  finally  the 
giving  of  the  left  cheek  for  the  kiss  of  peace. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  33 

So  much,  so  very  much  to  come  from  the  simple 
rule :  "  Love  your  neighbors  as  yourselves." 

He  could  not  but  think  of  that  proud  boast  of 
the  Roman  general,  Scipio  Africanus,  "  It  is  ever 
our  fate  that  conquered,  we  conquer." 

Did  Rome  ever  more  truly  conquer  than  when 
apparently  she  lay  crushed  and  helpless  before  the 
triumphant  Church  of  Christ  ?  Had  not  the  Holy 
Roman  Church  (mark  the  very  name ! )  of  the 
fourteenth  century  far  more  in  it  of  pagan  Rome 
than  of  Hebraic  Nazareth  ?  Was  there  no  one 
to  tell  those  people  gathered  there  that  all  these 
stately  processions  bringing  with  them  light  and 
color  into  the  twilight  of  the  churches,  these 
swaying  banners  of  gorgeous  design,  these  choir 
boys  in  violet  robes,  these  tall,  solemn-faced 
priests  resplendent  in  their  vestments  —  all  had 
been  employed  centuries  before  to  delight  and 
subjugate  the  Roman  populace  ?  Did  they  not 
know  that  these  same  triumphal  trains  had 
wound  their  way  through  gayly  decorated  streets 
to  the  temples  of  the  immortal  gods  ?  The 
incense  that  was  swayed  so  solemnly  in  the  jew 
elled  censers,  did  they  suspect  that  this  same 
sweet  odor  once  rose  at  the  feet  of  Roman  idols  ? 
Did  they  dream  —  these  simple,  confiding  people 
—  that  even  the  holy  water  itself  was  compounded 


34  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

from  a  heathen  recipe  ?  that  even  the  very  halos 
about  their  saints  were  copied  from  the  statue  of 
the  wicked  Nero,  where  it  had  symbolized  the 
glory  of  the  sun  ?  that  the  devotion  paid  to  the 
Pope  had  been  received  by  Caligula,  even  down 
to  the  kissing  of  his  toe  ? 

The  entire  organization  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Church,  what  was  it  but  the  organization  of  Im 
perial  Rome  changed  merely  in  nomenclature  ? 

He  looked  at  the  resplendent  figure  of  the 
Bishop :  each  scrap  of  the  episcopal  vestments 
bore  its  special  significance  —  the  sandals  signify 
ing  purity,  their  red  bows  the  patience  of  martyrs, 
the  girdle  symbolizing  continency,  the  two  points 
or  horns  of  the  mitre  standing  for  the  knowledge 
of  the  two  Testaments  —  and  so  on  through  every 
detail  —  the  annice  which  was  wound  about  the 
neck  being  a  very  encyclopaedia  of  symbolism, 
standing  for  five  distinctly  different  things. 

His  eye  rested  a  long  time  upon  that  wonder 
ful  insignia  of  office,  the  pastoral  staff,  symboli 
cally  shaped  on  the  lines  of  a  shepherd's  crook. 
The  staff  was  of  enamelled  gilt  copper  terminat 
ing  in  an  ivory  crook  upon  which  was  an  exqui 
sitely  carved  figure  of  the  Virgin.  About  the  knop 
were  four  compartments  each  containing  a  figure 
illustrative  of  the  history  of  David,  while  above 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  35 

these  were  representations  of  the  six  vices  over 
come  by  the  same  number  of  virtues,  a  pleasant 
microcosm  (which  could  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
symbolic  of  the  larger  life  on  earth)  where  Faith 
overcame  Idolatry,  Chastity  conquered  Impurity, 
Charity  swept  away  Envy,  Temperance  subdued 
Gluttony,  Bounty  dispelled  Avarice,  and  Peace 
did  away  with  Strife. 

And  was  he  to  concern  himself  with  all  this  — 
give  up  his  freedom  to  become  a  kind  of  prompter 
to  the  Bishop  ?  For  the  Archdeacon  must  see  to 
it  that  no  slightest  duty  of  the  celebrant  is  over 
looked,  that  this  part  of  the  Gospel  is  read  on  the 
north  side  of  the  altar  and  that  part  on  the  east 
side,  and  see  that  his  arms  are  extended  here  and 
withdrawn  there. 

No,  no,  after  all,  his  religion  was  of  a  totally 
different  kind. 

"  For  where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name 
there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them." 

Surely  nothing  could  be  simpler.  Surely  the 
religious  life  foreshadowed  by  these  words  of 
Christ  could  take  no  thought  of  the  countless 
forms  thrown  together  and  ossified  by  the  Hie 
rarchy. 

When  the  moment  came  for  the  delivery  of 
the  sermon  he  arose  with  a  new  courage,  his 


36  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

languor  entirely  thrown  off.  For  as  he  faced 
the  vast  congregation  these  words  were  ringing 
in  his  heart :  — 

"  For  Christ  made  never  no  cathedrals 
Ne  with  him  was  no  cardinals." 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  37 


IV 

FOR  his  text,  Annys  chose  the  words  of  Paul:  — 

"  And  I,  brethren,  when  I  came  unto  you,  came  not  with  ex 
cellency  of  speech  or  wisdom.  .  .  .  For  I  determined  not  to 
know  anything  among  you,  save  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 
.  .  .  And  my  speech  and  my  preaching  were  not  in  persuasive 
words  of  wisdom,  but  in  demonstration  of  the  spirit  of  power." 

From  this,  he  proceeded  to  lash  the  preacher 
of  the  day,  who,  if  he  deigned  at  all  to  quote  the 
words  of  the  Gospel,  was  so  taken  up  with  the 
manner  of  his  discourse  that  the  matter  seemed 
of  small  import.  And  if  such  an  one  read  the 
Gospel  of  Christ,  he  must  load  each  sentence  with 
evidences  of  his  own  learning,  distort  each  saying 
to  show  off  his  own  cleverness,  so  that  he  doth 
liken  himself  more  to  a  mountebank  who  contorts 
himself  before  a  crowd  to  earn  its  applause  and 
catch  its  pennies,  than  to  a  sober  minister  of  God. 
He  held  to  it  stubbornly  that  to  tell  of  Christ  and 
Him  crucified,  to  spread  the  knowledge  of  "  Goddes 
Lawe,"  was  the  chief  mission  of  Holy  Church,  and 
that  to  live  by  the  Gospel  was  complete  salvation, 
without  the  observance  of  certain  forms  set  up  by 
man. 


38  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

"  For  sure  it  is,"  he  said,  "  that  they  do  punish 
more  the  men  who  trespass  against  the  Pope's 
bulls,  than  those  who  trespass  against  Christ's 
Gospel." 

Bold  words,  these !  Words  that  caused  the 
priests  to  writhe  in  their  seats  and  cast  meaning 
glances  at  one  another.  The  clearest  Lollardry, 
this !  Forsooth !  this  one  ragged  priest  to  set 
himself  up  against  Ecumenical  Councils,  Synods 
of  the  Holy  Church,  Decretals,  Canons,  Rubrics, 
Curias,  Popes ;  against  the  whole  Hierarchy  with 
its  hundreds  of  priests,  its  thousands  of  Masses, 
its  hundreds  of  thousands  of  worshippers ;  with 
the  strength  of  empires  behind  it,  and  the  pres 
tige  of  the  Imperial  City, — this  one  ragged  priest! 

Cardinal  Barsini,the  Papal  Legate,  could  scarce 
restrain  his  rage.  How  dared  Thomas  of  Ely  to 
offer  high  office  to  this  stirrer-up  of  sedition  and 
heresy  ?  Thomas  of  Ely,  forsooth  !  this  canny 
Bishop  will  bear  close  watching.  To  be  sure,  he 
had  proved  himself  a  very  watch-dog  of  the  funds 
of  the  Church,  and  thus  very  useful  to  his  Holi 
ness  the  Pope  while  the  greedy  Barons  had  been 
making  their  onslaughts  on  the  Church's  Treas 
ury.  Yet  this  same  prelate  had  been  most  out 
spoken  in  his  belief  that  these  same  moneys  should 
be  spent  for  the  good  of  the  English  Church,  and 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  39 

not  for  the  carrying  on  of  foreign  wars.  "  Eng 
lish  money  must  not  help  England's  enemies," 
was  the  cry  of  the  Bishop  and  his  followers. 
Basta!  dangerous  theories,  these,  to  be  crushed 
down  with  a  strong  hand.  And  what  nonsense 
was  this  insolent  poor  priest  prating  of  ?  —  the 
simplification  of  the  priestly  office  was  just  what 
the  priesthood  did  not  want  If  it  were  necessary 
merely  to  read  the  Gospel  without  explaining  and 
interpreting  it,  why,  be  a  clerk  and  have  done  with 
it.  The  aloofness,  the  dignity,  the  power  of  the 
clergy  would  fall  away  instanter,  the  very  fabric 
of  the  Church  Visible  would  crumble  away  before 
their  eyes. 

While  they  fumed  and  bit  their  lips,  the  deep, 
melodious  voice  of  the  young  poor  priest  rang 
through  the  church  :  — 

"  '  And  about  this  time  there  arose  no  small  stir  concerning 
the  way.  For  a  certain  man  named  Demetrius,  a  silversmith, 
which  made  silver  shrines  of  Diana,  brought  no  little  business 
unto  the  craftsmen  ;  whom  he  gathered  together  with  the  work 
men  of  like  occupation,  and  said,  Sirs,  ye  know  that  by  this  busi 
ness  we  have  our  wealth.  And  ye  see  and  hear  that  Paul  hath 
persuaded  and  turned  away  much  people,  saying  that  there  be 
no  gods,  which  are  made  with  our  hands  :  and  there  is  danger 
that  this  our  trade  come  into  disrepute.' 

"Now  the  priest  that  says  unto  himself, '  Behold, 
if  the  mere  words  of  Christ  contain  all  of  religion, 


40  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

what  need  is  there  for  me?'  is  like  unto  that 
Demetrius  of  old  who  feared  to  lose  his  trade  of 
making  the  silver  gods.  Shall  we,  then,  continue 
to  place  Imagery  and  Incense  above  the  words  of 
Christ  in  order  that  the  priestly  trade  fall  not  into 
disrepute  ?  Verily,  to  understand  and  teach  the 
word  of  Christ  requires  not  such  great  learning;  it 
has  been  once  understood  by  simple  fishermen. 
Now  we  are  all  more  eager  to  appear  versed  in 
the  writings  of  the  Fathers,  than  in  the  words  of 
Christ  Jesus.  The  opinion  of  commentators  hath 
grown  to  exceed  in  importance  the  opinion  of 
Him  who  is  commented  upon.  To  know  Ana- 
thasius  and  Jerome  and  Augustine  is  placed 
above  knowing  just  Christ,  and  Him  crucified.  O 
my  friends,  help  me  bring  back  the  Church  to 
Christ  Jesus  —  help  me  bring  her  back  to  the 
fountain  head  of  inspiration  that  she  may  be  bap 
tized  anew  in  the  reviving  waters." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  and  then  through 
the  vast  interior  there  sighed  the  exquisite 
benediction :  — 

"The  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of  God, 
and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  with  you  all." 

And  slowly  the  people  dispersed  and  went  their 
several  ways. 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING  41 

Long  after  the  great  church  was  empty,  the 
young  poor  priest  remained  before  the  altar,  bowed 
in  prayer.  He  prayed  fervently  for  light.  He 
tried  to  fasten  his  mind  upon  the  one  essential 
question  :  Could  he  be  of  greater  service  to  the 
people  as  a  poor  priest  going  from  town  to  town, 
with  the  illimitable  heavens,  the  waving  trees,  the 
only  cathedral ;  or  as  Archdeacon  of  the  great 
church  of  Ely,  preaching  a  weekly  sermon,  help 
ing  the  Bishop  reform  abuses,  investigating  mon 
asteries,  probing  into  the  administrations  of 
abbots,  visiting  infrequently  the  scattered  vil 
lages  within  his  diocese,  striving  to  hold  the  peo 
ple  within  the  Church?  Perhaps  he  could  prove 
to  them  that  not  with  all  Churchmen  — 
"  The  poor  to  pill  is  all  their  pray ;  " 

that  there  were  exceptions  to  those  described  in 
the  popular  satire :  — 

"  The  pope  maketh  bishops  for  earthly  thanke, 

And  nothing  at  all  for  Christ's  sake, 
Such  that  been  full  fat  and  ranke, 
To  soul-heale  none  heed  they  take." 

Perhaps,  after  all,  as  the  Bishop  had  suggested, 
his  mission  lay  in  stemming  the  tide  of  scorn  and 
distrust  that  was  turning  the  people  away  from 
Holy  Church.  After  all,  it  was  a  stirring  thought. 
The  sermon  delivered,  his  whole  being  quivered 


42  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

with  a  new-born  sense  of  power.  The  delight  of 
swaying  great  multitudes  was  upon  him.  The 
pomp  and  pride  of  the  place  had  entered  into  his 
veins.  A  mighty  ambition  swept  through  him 
which  was  by  no  means  a  mere  carnal  desire  after 
great  wealth  or  position.  It  was  not  that  he 
craved  the  Bishopric  of  Ely  with  its  ten  palaces 
of  residence  scattered  through  Hertfordshire, 
Huntingtonshire,  and  Cambridgeshire,  as  well  as 
on  the  isle  of  Ely.  It  was  not  that  he  longed  to 
ride  forth  in  state  with  banners  flying  and  men 
arrayed  in  his  livery,  and  the  arms  of  the  See 
blazoned  on  many  a  shield.  Well  was  he  familiar 
with  the  sight  of  the  arms  of  the  noble  house  to 
which  Thomas  of  Ely  belonged:  Quarterly,  first 
and  fourth  gules  a  Lion  rampant  Or ;  second  and 
third  Checquy  Or  and  Azure ;  all  within  a  Bor- 
dure  engrailed  Argent.  These  he  displayed  be 
side  the  arms  of  the  See  of  Ely.  But  it  was  the 
power  that  went  with  the  state  that  bit  into  him, 
the  sitting  in  Westminster  Hall  as  a  Peer  of  the 
realm,  and  framing  laws  for  the  good  of  the  land. 
Once  Bishop  of  Ely  (for  he  knew  the  archdeacon- 
ate  was  but  a  step  preparatory  to  that),  who  could 
tell  but  the  great  See  of  Canterbury  might  be  his 
some  day,  and  with  it  the  Primacy  of  all  England  ? 
Primate  of  England,  Adviser  of  the  King.  Ay ! 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING  43 

and  more  than  Adviser,  for  when  Kings  were 
weak  and  Primates  strong,  who,  then,  was  the 
true  Ruler  of  the  Realm  ?  The  great  names  of 
the  English  Primacy  rushed  through  his  mind : 
Theodore  the  monk  of  Tarsus,  who  had  been 
first  to  lift  the  throne  of  Canterbury  above  all 
the  others,  and  Dunstan,  Abbot  of  Glastonbury, 
and  Anselm,  Lanfranc,  adviser  to  the  Conqueror, 
and  Theobald  and  Thomas  Beket,  all  men  who 
had  shaped  the  policy  of  England  as  truly  as  ever 
King  had  done.  And  once  Primate  of  England, 
who  knew  but  a  second  Englishman  might  come 
to  sit  in  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  ?  Even  so,  he  the 
poor  student,  arriving  ten  years  before  at  Oxford 
with  not  a  groat  in  his  possession  and  with  only  a 
few  rags  to  hide  the  garment  of  haircloth  which 
he  had  promised  his  mother  to  wear  on  Fridays 
and  fast-days,  he  the  unknown  student  might  rise 
to  be  Vicar  of  Christ,  Supreme  Pontiff,  Successor 
of  the  Prince  of  Apostles  !  Stranger  things  than 
that  had  happened  —  was  not  the  present  Pope, 
Urban  VI,  but  a  coarse  Italian  peasant,  Bartho- 
lommeo  Prignano  by  name  ?  Was  not  the  great 
Hilclebrand  himself  the  son  of  a  Tuscan  carpen 
ter?  The  sons  of  carpenters  had  played  a  not 
unimportant  part  in  the  history  of  the  Church. 
Pope  !  what  tumultuous  thoughts  swept  through 


44  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

him  with  the  very  name !  What  visions  of  Maj 
esty,  of  Power,  of  Imperial  Might !  The  full  title 
he  rolled  upon  his  tongue:  Bishop  of  Rome,  Vicar 
of  Jesus  Christ,  Successor  of  the  Prince  of  Apos 
tles,  Supreme  Pontiff  of  the  Universal  Church, 
Patriarch  of  the  West,.  Primate  of  Italy,  Arch 
bishop  and  Metropolitan  of  the  Roman  Province, 
Sovereign  of  the  Temporal  Dominion  of  the  Holy 
Roman  Church. 

Pope,  Pappa,  or  Father.  Even  then  there  came 
to  him  the  recognition  that,  after  all,  that  was  the 
proudest  title  of  them  all  —  Father  of  the  People. 
Protector!  What  could  Archbishop  or  Primate 
more  than  to  obey  that  beautiful  mandate  of  the 
Saviour,  "  Feed  my  lambs  "  ? 

Indeed,  too  often  had  the  Pope  tried  rather  to 
fleece  them  than  to  feed  them,  so  that  a  Medi 
aeval  wit  was  led  to  remark  that  the  Papal  staff 
should  be  shaped  as  a  pair  of  shears,  rather  than 
as  a  shepherd's  crook.  But  he,  Robert  Annys, 
once  Pope,  he  would  enforce  Reform,  he  would 
bring  back  the  Holy  Spouse  to  its  lost  purity  and 
singleness  of  purpose ;  with  his  indomitable  energy 
he  would  wage  a  merciless  war  on  that  terrible 
Antichrist,  Robert  of  Geneva,  who,  under  the 
name  of  Clement  VII,  was  holding  shameful  court 
at  Avignon.  With  relentless  hand  he  would  put 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  45 

down  Simony  and  Licentiousness ;  he  would  put 
a  stop  to  one  prelate  holding  more  than  one  See. 
Above  all,  he  would  seek  to  spiritualize  the 
Church,  so  that  men  might  know  that  temporal 
power  was  not  its  true  life,  for,  as  the  popular 
song  had  it :  — 

"  Christ  bad  Peter  keepe  his  sheepe, 
Swerde  is  no  toole  with  sheep  to  keepe. 

****** 
Holy  Churches  rich  clothing  shall  be  rightwiseness ; 
Her  treasure  true  life  shall  be ; 
Charity  shall  be  her  richesse  ; 

Her  lordship  shall  be  unite ; 

Hope  in  God  her  honeste  ; 

Her  vessel  clean  conscience  ; 

Poore  in  spirit  and  humilite  — 
Shall  be  Holy  Churches  defence." 

And  yet  other  Popes  had  started  with  such 
noble  intentions.  Who  knows  but  perhaps  the 
man  who  holds  a  thousand  thousand  reins  be 
tween  his  fingers  may  not,  in  the  end,  find  that, 
instead  of  being  the  driver,  he  is  really  being 
driven  ?  There  was  the  proudest  Pope  the  world 
knew,  Gregory  VII,  the  indomitable  Hildebrand, 
whose  power  seemed  to  have  no  bounds,  —  what 
was  his  end  ?  A  lonely  death  in  exile,  with  one 
enemy  crowned  Emperor  and  another  established 
as  his  successor  in  the  throne  of  Rome. 


46  ROBERT  ANNYS :   POOR   PRIEST 

The  Bishop  waited  for  his  answer.  He  stood 
at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  Clearly  he  must  de 
cide  without  further  delay.  Perhaps  this  very 
indecision  was  but  a  sign  of  the  dangers  of  com 
ing  within  the  spell  of  the  Church.  Perhaps  this 
stirring  desire  to  keep  within,  this  fierce  ambition 
which  struggled  in  his  breast  for  mastery,  was 
but  a  new  temptation  of  the  Evil  One  to  lure  him 
into  Vanity  and  a  Love  of  Power  for  its  own  sake. 
Oh,  if  only  on  the  one  side  lay  the  path  of  perfect 
right-doing,  and  on  the  other  the  path  of  evil- 
doing,  how  easy  were  the  decision.  But,  alas ! 
the  devil  works  not  in  that  way.  He  so  mixes 
up  the  good  with  the  evil,  and  the  evil  with  the 
good,  that  one  knows  not  which  way  to  turn. 

What  should  he  answer  to  the  Bishop  ?  Was 
he  strong  enough  to  stand  alone,  with  only  the 
Bible  in  his  hand,  and  say  in  the  face  of  Bishops 
and  Archbishops,  Cardinals,  Legates,  the  Pope 
himself :  "  Man  needs  not  all  these  offices  and 
ceremonials,  these  stately  places  of  worship,  these 
Bishops'  palaces.  Man  should  live  by  the  Book 
alone ;  then  would  there  be  no  need  for  priests  to 
shrive  or  Popes  to  anathematize  "?  The  Pope  — 
the  people  did  not  need  him :  — 

"What  knoweth  a  tillour  at  the  plow  the  popes  name?" 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING  47 

He  sought  the  answer  in  prayer.  He  implored 
fervently  for  some  miracle  to  show  him  the  divine 
way.  Hours  passed,  and  still  he  remained  there 
before  the  altar,  bowed  in  prayer.  The  shadows 
in  the  great  interior  changed  places  as  the  sun 
travelled  its  course.  Where  in  the  morning  the 
sun  had  glorified  great  windows  of  painted  glass, 
there  now  rested  cold  gloom ;  what  had  stood  out 
white  and  clear  now  hid  itself  in  shadow ;  a  weird 
procession  of  the  Apostles  and  Virgins  and  Saints 
took  place,  one  after  another  silently  emerging 
from  dim  recesses,  and  after  standing  out  for  a 
while  white  and  clear-cut,  slowly  fading  away  into 
the  gray  walls. 

Still  Annys  prayed. 

On  the  altar  lay  the  Gospels  beautifully  bound 
in  gold.  To  the  Book's  ornamentation  went 
twenty  sapphires,  six  emeralds,  eight  topazes, 
eight  salmandine  stones,  eight  garnets,  and  twelve 
pearls.  Annys  could  not  but  think  of  the  cheeks 
he  had  seen  that  morning  sunken  from  hunger. 
He  could  not  but  reflect  how  many  mouths  those 
jewels  might  have  fed.  His  eyes  fell  upon  the 
cruet  which  contained  the  consecrated  oil.  It 
was  enclosed  in  an  exquisitely  jewelled  reliquary 
of  finest  silver  gilt ;  the  curtains  of  the  altar  were 
of  blue  cloth  of  tissue,  with  images  of  the  Cruci- 


48  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

fixion  most  delicately  embroidered  on  it.  Some 
thing  seemed  to  whisper  within  him  that  Jesus 
Christ,  could  He  now  look  on  the  condition  of  His 
Church  to-day,  would  not  approve  of  all  the  splen 
dor  within,  while  without  men  died  by  the  hun 
dred  for  lack  of  brotherly  service.  He  prayed 
for  light.  How  would  Christ  have  acted  ?  Would 
He  have  been  persuaded  to  take  high  office  within 
the  Sanhedrim,  and  not  go  down  among  His  peo 
ple  who  waited  for  Him  ?  Surely  not.  Could  all 
the  gilt  and  glory  of  Solomon's  temple  have  made 
Him  forsake  the  cross  ?  No,  a  thousand  times 
no!  O  for  some  manifestation  of  the  divine 
will  that  would  make  clear  his  way  beyond  per- 
adventure ! 

"  Grant  it,  dear  Lord,  for  the  sake  of  Thy  Son 
who  died  on  the  rood." 

Far  up  over  the  altar,  above  the  most  beautiful 
reredos  in  all  England,  stood  the  patient  Christ 
looking  down  upon  him.  On  either  side,  slightly 
lower,  stood  the  solemn  figures  of  Moses  and 
Elijah.  The  arches  in  which  they  stood  were  sup 
ported  by  shafts  of  alabaster  curiously  entwined 
with  spiral  belts  of  agates  and  crystals  on  a  golden 
ground.  On  the  reredos  was  the  sculptured  story 
of  the  wonderful  life,  the  entry  into  Jerusalem, 
washing  the  feet  of  the  disciples,  the  Last  Sup- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  49 

per,  the  Agony  in  the  Garden,  and  finally,  Bear 
ing  the  Cross ;  yet  the  central  figure  of  the  Christ, 
high  up  in  its  gable,  easily  dominated  all.  Ma 
jestic  as  were  the  figures  of  the  prophets,  there 
was  a  certain  simpler  majesty  of  the  Christ  that 
appealed  more  intimately  to  the  human  soul. 

The  patient  Christ  looked  down  upon  the  kneel 
ing  form,  and  to  the  tired  eyes  of  the  young  priest, 
it  seemed  that  He  smiled  upon  him.  He  saw  the 
gentle  lips  move  and  heard  a  low  whisper :  — 

"  Patience,  dear  son.  Have  I  not  pleaded  with 
My  Father,  '  Lord,  Lord,  I  came  not  to  earth, 
that  these  great  cathedrals  be  reared,  nor  that 
superbly  robed  priests  genuflect  before  My 
image '  ? 

"  Nevertheless,  I  have  faith  that  surely  the  time 
will  come  when  the  hearts  of  the  people  are  ripe  for 
the  knowledge  of  Me.  If  the  Lord  hath  seen  to  it 
that  the  seeds  of  the  flowers  are  blown  by  the 
winds  of  heaven  at  the  appointed  time  and  scat 
tered  into  the  fields  that  await  their  coming, 
surely  He  will  see  that  My  words  yet  fall  on  fer 
tile  soil." 

Annys  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  gazing  into  the 
face  of  the  Christ,  cried  ecstatically :  — 

"  But  is  the  appointed  time  now  come  ?  Am  I 
the  one  to  scatter  the  seed  and  cause  it  to  fall 


50  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

upon  the  right  soil  ?     Oh,  vouchsafe  me  a  sign,  a 
sign,  dear  Lord,  to  show  me  the  way." 

For  answer,  softly  there  crept  into  the  shadowed 
apse  the  faint  sound  of  voices,  as  of  many  men 
chanting  a  hymn,  but  far,  far  away.  Slowly  it 
gathered  in  strength  until  it  touched  the  walls  of 
the  great  church  and  made  them  speak,  ever  grow 
ing  stronger  and  stronger  until  at  last  the  words 
could  be  distinguished,  and  the  whole  vast  interior 
rang  with  the  refrain  :  — 

"  Jack  Miller  asketh  help  to  turn  his  mill  aright. 
He  hath  grounded  small,  small,  small : 
The  King's  Son  of  Heaven  He  shall  pay  for  all. 
Look  thy  mill  go  aright  with  the  four  sails, 
And  the  post  stand  with  steadfastness." 

And  then  the  stirring  call :  — 

"  With  right  and  with  might 
With  skill  and  with  will ; 
Let  might  help  right, 

And  skill  go  before  will 
And  right  before  might 
So  goeth  our  mill  aright." 

The  face  of  Annys  was  transfigured  with  joy, 
for  well  he  knew  the  song  to  be  one  that  passed 
from  lip  to  lip  among  the  followers  of  John  Ball. 
It  was  the  call  of  the  People,  the  defiant  song 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING  51 

of    the   down-trodden,    law-ridden,   priest-ridden 
People. 

"  A  sign !    a  sign ! "   he  cried    exultantly,  and 
rushed  out  into  the  Square. 


52  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 


WHERE  three  roads  from  the  neighboring  vil 
lages  met,  there  was  formed  a  great  open  space 
in  which  a  thousand  or  more  persons  could  easily 
find  room  without  crowding.  Here  had  gathered 
together  the  people,  eager  to  see  and  hear  their 
beloved  leader,  John  Ball. 

While  Ball  was  resting  at  the  tavern,  after  his 
long  tramp,  the  crowd  amused  itself  welcoming 
vociferously  the  late  comers,  cracking  jokes,  and 
singing  songs.  A  tall  fellow  made  his  way  among 
them,  crying :  — 

"  Busk  ye,  busk  ye,  John  Ball  hath  rung  your 
bell.  God  do  bote,  for  now  is  tyme." 

"  By  my  troth,  then,  it  will  be  heard  from  one 
end  of  England  to  the  other! "  exclaimed  a  power 
fully  built,  fierce-looking  dyer,  whose  hands,  stained 
a  purplish  red  by  his  trade,  added  to  his  sanguinary 
appearance. 

"  Tis  fairly  so.  We  shall  yet  all  be  free  men," 
agreed  a  mild-mannered,  lanky  youth,  with  a  slight 
halt  in  his  speech. 

"  Here  come  John  the  cobbler,  and  Will  the 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  53 

tinker,  both  as  sober  as  owls,"  called  out  a  young 
ster. 

"  Ho,  John,  John,  thy  lass  will  turn  a  cold  front 
on  thee,  and  thou  smooth  not  the  frown  on  thine 
ugly  phiz ! "  cried  one  who  was  blue  with  the  cold, 
and  danced  about  first  on  one  foot  and  then  the 
other  to  keep  his  blood  circulating. 

A  short  distance  from  him,  a  long-nosed, 
peaked-faced  chap,  a  bit  unsteady  on  his  legs,  was 
haranguing  a  group. 

"  Here's  a  nut  to  crack,"  he  was  saying ;  "  who 
can  answer  me  this :  What  do  the  priests  prefer 
over  Luke,  Mark,  and  the  Book  ? " 

"  Nay,  then,  not  I,"  snarled  one  who  was  in  no 
mood  for  conundrums,  "  not  I,  seeing  that  I  cannot 
boast  thy  wit,  Simon  Lackless." 

Lackless  grinned  broadly  and  placed  one  lean 
finger  to  his  long  nose,  waggishly.  "Why,  'tis  fair 
enough,"  he  said ;  "  the  priests  do  prefer  Lucre  to 
Luke,  Marks  to  Mark,  and  the  Bag  to  the  Book." 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  "  laughed  the  people  about  him, 
passing  the  joke  along  from  one  to  the  other. 

But  Lackless  had  not  overlooked  the  sneer ;  he 
now  pointed  to  the  speaker  and  called  out  in  a 
loud  voice,  "  Poor  Wat !  We  must  forgive  him, 
seeing  he  is  so  meek  at  home  and  must  vent  his 
cooped-up  spleen  on  some  one ! " 


54  ROBERT   ANNYS  :  POOR   PRIEST 

Wat  sought  another  part  of  the  crowd,  discom 
fited. 

"  I  wot  a  good  saw,"  exclaimed  an  old  man, 
leaning  heavily  on  a  staff;  "but  there,  do  not 
ask  me  for  it,  for  my  sides  ache  with  laughing 
a'ready." 

But  they  would  not  let  him  off.  "  Come  now, 
let's  have  it,"  they  begged.  Some  laughed  out 
right  from  sympathy  with  the  old  man's  merri 
ment. 

"  What  think  ye,  what  think  ye  —  oh,  Lord  !  " 
he  spluttered.  "What  think  ye -they  do  say  at 
Rome?" 

"  They  do  say  *  Aves'  in  plenty,  for  all  the  good 
they  do  us,"  grumbled  one.  But  no  one  else  ven 
tured  to  solve  the  riddle. 

"  Why,  it  is  '  Give  and  it  shall  be  given  unto 
you,'"  the  old  man  said,  chuckling  in  his  high, 
cracked  treble. 

The  crowd  laughed  heartily. 

"  Ay !  '  and  moch  they  take,  and  give  but  small,'  " 
sang  out  an  impish  lad,  who  had  jumped  on  the 
back  of  a  comrade  and  was  pummelling  him 
lustily. 

"  Aiee  !  Aiee  !  "  cried  the  under  one. 

A  wrathy  butcher  jerked  the  fellow  off  the 
other's  back  and  smacked  him  soundly  for  his 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING  55 

pains.  "  Off  with  you !  One  would  think  a 
mountebank  was  coming  instead  of  John  Ball!" 

There  were  others  who  felt  as  he  did/  Beneath 
all  the  fun  there  flowed  an  undercurrent  of  ear 
nestness,  and  many  there  were  who  spoke  no 
word,  but  gazed  grimly  before  them,  seemingly 
lost  in  thought. 

Suddenly  some  one  started  a  song  to  while 
away  the  time :  — 

"  Earth  out  of  earth  is  wonderfully  wrought." 
Others  immediately  joined  in  :  — 

"  Earth  from  earth  has  got  dignity  of  naught." 

When  the  last  stanza  was  reached,  six  hundred 
voices  trolled  it  defiantly  forth  :  — 

"  Earth  upon  earth  would  be  a  king ; 
But  how  that  earth  shall  be  earth's  thinks  he  no  thing : 
Earth  upon  earth  wins  castles  and  towers, 
Then  says  earth  unto  earth  '  this  is  all  ours.'  " 

Then  a  thin  boyish  treble  started  a  mocking  song 
on  the  great  state  of  the  priests.  They  did  not  suf 
fer  him  to  sing  alone,  but  took  it  up  eagerly  with 
him:  — 

<(  Priestes  high  on  horse  willeth  ride 

In  glitterande  gold  of  great  array, 
Ipainted  and  portred  all  in  pride 
No  common  knight  may  go  so  gay ; 


56  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

Change  of  clothing  every  day, 
With  golden  girdles  great  and  small ; 
As  boisterous  as  is  beare  at  bay." 

But  now  John  Ball  was  seen  making  his  way 
through  the  throng.  As  the  people  pressed  to 
gether  to  let  him  pass,  benedictions  and  glances 
of  true  affection  followed  him ;  and  he,  catching 
sight  here  and  there  of  some  known  face,  nodded 
cheerily,  first  on  one  side  and  the  other.  For  the 
people  loved  him,  and  called  him  "  Saviour " ;  it 
was  only  the  Churchmen  that  spoke  of  him  as 
"  the  mad  priest  of  Kent." 

In  the  centre  of  the  square  stood  a  great  tall 
cross  of  stone  with  the  head  very  beautifully 
carved  with  a  crucifix  in  the  middle  of  leafage 
work,  and  with  wide  stone  steps,  octagonal  in 
shape,  leading  to  it.  When  Ball  reached  these 
steps,  he  mounted  to  the  very  top  and  stood  there 
looking  down  with  a  quiet  smile  upon  the  up 
turned  faces  before  him.  He  stood  there,  a 
powerfully  built,  tall,  big-boned  figure  in  the  well- 
known,  reddish  brown,  coarse  garb  of  his  order,  a 
veritable  tower  of  strength  physical  as  well  as 
spiritual,  and  looking  as  if  he  knew  his  own 
strength  and  gloried  in  it.  A  ring  of  dark  hair 
surrounded  his  priest's  tonsure ;  his  nose  was  big, 
but  clean-cut  and  with  wide  nostrils ;  his  shaven 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  57 

face  showed  a  longish  upper  lip  and  a  big  but 
blunt  chin ;  his  mouth  was  big  and  the  lips  closed 
firmly.  A  face  not  very  noteworthy  but  for  the 
gray  eyes,  well  opened  and  wide  apart,  at  times 
lighting  up  his  whole  face  with  a  kindly  smile, 
at  times  set  and  stern,  or  now  and  then  resting 
in  that  look  as  if  they  were  gazing  at  something 
a  long  way  off,  as  do  the  eyes  of  the  poet  or 
enthusiast. 

Shout  after  shout  broke  from  the  throng  as 
he  stood  there  calmly  looking  down  upon  them. 
When  at  last  there  was  silence,  he  was  not  suffered 
to  speak,  for  of  a  sudden  a  man  standing  immedi 
ately  next  to  the  cross  unfurled  a  banner  which 
swung  out  in  the  breeze.  Only  a  smallish  banner 
with  a  peculiar  device  upon  it :  merely  a  picture 
of  a  man  and  a  woman  rudely  clad  and  with  bare 
legs  and  feet  seen  against  a  background  of  green 
trees,  the  man  holding  a  spade,  the  woman  a  dis 
taff  and  spindle,  rudely  enough  drawn,  yet  with 
great  spirit  and  meaning.  Underneath  were  the 
written  words :  — 

"  When  Adam  delved  and  Eve  span 
Who  was  then  the  gentleman  ?  " 

A  tremulous  murmur  arose  that  soon  swelled 
into  a  great  huzza.  The  thrill  of  enthusiasm  ran 


58  ROBERT  ANNYS  :  POOR   PRIEST 

like  threads  of  fire  from  man  to  man.    Again  and 
again,  Huzza!   Huzza! 

A  prosperous  merchant,  stopping  curiously  on 
the  edge  of  the  crowd,  pointed  to  the  banner. 
"That  comes,"  he  said,  "of  putting  Holy  Writ 
'twixt  the  fingers  of  every  swineherd." 

His  companion,  an  alderman  from  Norwich, 
smiled.  "Ah,  can  one  wonder  that  they  cry  Ball 
with  Book  and  Bell?  If  they  press  the  gospel 
into  daily  life,  there's  no  telling  what  will  hap 
pen!" 

Annys,  coming  from  the  dim  twilight  of  the 
Cathedral,  looked  about  him  at  first  in  bewilder 
ment.  He  stood  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  throng, 
apart  and  gazing  with  interest  at  the  scene.  He 
felt  himself  not  yet  attuned  to  the  bright  picture 
before  him,  full  of  color  and  light  and  life.  But 
slowly  the  true  significance  of  it  all  sank  into  him. 
The  very  brightness  and  color  of  the  scene  was  in 
itself  symbolic.  Here  all  took  place  in  the  open 
air ;  the  sun,  although  near  the  end  of  its  course, 
yet  threw  into  sharp  contrast  the  dark  fringe  of 
trees  that  encircled  the  outskirts  of  the  cross-roads. 
The  air  was  pure  and  fresh  and  smelled  of  the  sea 
and  the  salt  marshes,  awakening  every  faculty 
with  a  tingling  sense  of  life  and  activity.  It  was 
so  different,  ah,  how  different,  from  the  heavy, 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  59 

incense-laden  air  of  the  dim  Cathedral !  That 
was  an  atmosphere  which  dulled  one's  senses  and 
soothed  them  to  sleep.  The  gay  mass  of  moving 
color  as  the  people  swayed  this  way  and  that,  the 
goodly  brown  soil,  the  living  green  of  the  earth, — 
how  good  it  all  was !  He  could  look  up  and  see, 
from  where  he  stood,  the  stately  tower  of  Ely  and 
the  smaller  tower  of  the  Lantern  etched  grandly 
against  the  sky.  Beautiful  as  the  proud  Minster 
was,  even  as  he  looked  at  it,  he  felt  that  its 
power  must  wane  from  the  moment  that  this 
new  religion  of  the  poor  priests  took  firm  hold 
of  the  people.  The  Cathedral  stood  for  a  reli 
gion  of  secluded  cloisters,  a  standard  of  living 
for  monks  and  priests ;  but  Ball  stood  for  a  reli 
gion  for  the  whole  broad  earth,  a  standard  of 
living  for  the  men  and  women  who  did  the  work 
of  the  world. 

And  Ball  spoke  and  said :  — 

"  Fellow-men,  a  price  is  on  my  head.  Well 
wist  I  that  even  at  this  moment  the  Archbishop's 
men  are  awaiting  until  I  come  into  their  power 
to  clap  me  into  Maidstone  gaol." 

A  threatening  murmur  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  many  a  man  fingered  his  bow,  and  such  as 
had  them,  clapped  hand  to  sword  or  studied  the 
points  of  their  daggers  fondly. 


60  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"Yea,  that  wist  I  —  there  be  but  little  time 
left  me  to  talk  to  you,  so  I  must  hasten.  The 
men  of  Kent  have  sent  for  me,  and  I  am  on  my 
way  to  them,  although  I  doubt  if  I  can  have 
speech  with  them  before  the  gaolers  have  me  in 
irons.  Yet  the  men  have  need  of  me,  and  I  go. 
I  am  not  the  first  preacher  of  God's  word  to  be 
hunted  by  tyrants.  Was  not  our  dear  Lord, 
Jesus  Christ,  summoned  again  and  again  to  ap 
pear  before  the  authorities  to  defend  Himself  on 
the  charge  of  disturbing  the  public  peace  ?  Was 
not  likewise  the  Apostle  Paul  persecuted  ?  And 
there  were  others,  but  it  is  not  of  them  that  I 
came  to  speak  to  you  to-day.  I  come  to  tell  ye 
wherein  I  am  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace, 
wherein  I  am  justly  dubbed  a  '  pestilent  fellow,' 
as  Ananias  the  high  priest  dubbed  Paul.  Yea, 
verily,  I  am  a  pestilent  fellow  of  the  sect  of  the 
Nazarenes,  going  about  the  land  sowing  the 
seeds  of  discontent  and  rebellion.  And  I  take 
glory  unto  myself  for  the  name.  For  surely  if 
ye  bide  content  with  such  a  lot  as  yours  —  if  ye 
remain  satisfied  with  homes  of  wattled  reeds  and 
mud,  and  do  not  rebel  that  oxen  and  horses 
should  be  better  cared  for  than  such  as  were 
made  in  the  image  of  God,  —  then  would  ye  not 
deserve  the  name  of  Men.  The  people  are  grow- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  61 

ing  tired  of  calling  upon  the  high  priests  of  the 
Church  to  reform  themselves.  My  brethren,  the 
time  hath  come  when  Reform  must  come  from 
below  and  not  above,  must  come  from  the  people 
and  no  Pope.  The  people  are  not  schismatic,  the 
people  are  not  over-luxurious." 

A  sardonic  grin  swept  over  many  faces,  and  some 
broke  out  into  loud  guffaws  at  this  sally. 

"  The  people  are  not  covetous,  nor  greedy,  nor 
lustful,  nor  ever  grasping  for  new  powers.  Nay, 
verily,  I  ask  you  to  listen  to  the  words  of  the 
Apostle  Paul,  and  tell  me  who  come  nearer  to 
the  ideal  held  up  therein  —  the  priests  or  the 
people  ? 

"  '  And  behold,  we  live  ;  as  chastened  and  not  killed ;  as 
poor,  yet  making  many  rich;  as  having  nothing,  and  yet 
possessing  all  things.' " 

"  The  people,  the  people,"  they  shouted  lustily. 

"  Ha ! "  cried  one  fellow  to  another,  "  of  the 
priests  we  may  well  say  —  they  live,  as  unchaste 
and  lively ;  as  rich,  yet  making  others  poor ;  as 
having  everything,  and  yet  wishing  more." 

"In  truth!"  answered  his  companion;  "but 
stay,  he  begins  again." 

"  The  people,"  went  on  Ball,  "  seek  Christ,  but 
they  are  a-weary  of  seeing  Religion  walk  in  the 


62  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

market-place,  a  buyer  among  buyers,  a  ruler  among 
rulers,  a  tyrant  among  tyrants." 

"  That's  true  as  Holy  Writ,"  shouted  one  great  fel 
low,  enthusiastically,  and  many  took  up  the  cry :  — 

"  As  true  as  Holy  Writ !  " 

"  The  people  desire  priests  who  will  come  among 
them  and  work  among  them,  even  as  did  the 
Apostles.  Why  am  I  put  beyond  the  pale  of  the 
Church  save  that,  instead  of  concerning  myself  with 
unravelling  the  tangles  of  canonical  lore,  I  seek  to 
unravel  the  tangles  of  life  ?  Sure  all  that  is  needed 
to  do  priestly  service  is  to  love  much,  for  hath  not 
St.  John  said :  — 

"  '  He  that  loveth  his  brother  abideth  in  the  light,  and  there 
is  none  occasion  of  stumbling  in  him  '  ? 

"And  what  is  love,  I  ask  ye,  but  good-fellowship  ? 
Ah,  cherish  that  word  fellowship,  my  brethren, 
for  without  fellowship  be  assured  Christ  cannot 
enter  among  you:  for  without  fellowship  every 
one  standeth  for  his  own  lusts,  and  the  strong 
wax  yet  stronger,  and  the  weak  are  pressed  to 
the  wall  and  grow  yet  weaker  and  die.  But 
where  fellowship  entereth  among  you  there  en- 
tereth  Christ  also  —  the  strong  shares  his  strength 
with  the  weak,  and  the  oppressed  arise  and  lift 
up  their  heads.  We  are  told  much,  fellow-men, 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING  63 

of  the  states  of  heaven  and  hell,  we  are  told  of 
the  blessings  of  heaven  and  the  horrors  of  hell ; 
but  lay  it  well  to  heart  what  I  tell  you,  —  friend 
ship  is  heaven  and  lack  of  fellowship  is  hell  — 
fellowship  is  life,  and  lack  of  fellowship  is  death. 
In  hell,  one  shall  cry  on  his  fellow  to  help  him, 
and  shall  find  that  therein  is  no  help  because 
there  is  no  fellowship,  but  every  man  for  himself. 
Therefore  I  tell  you  that  the  proud,  despiteous 
rich  man,  though  he  knoweth  it  not,  is  in  hell 
already,  because  he  hath  no  fellow." 

And  his  voice  sank  solemnly  away  and  the 
people  brooded  in  silence  over  what  they  had 
heard.  And  perhaps  there  came  over  the  speaker 
a  sudden  thought  of  the  cold,  dark  dungeon 
where  he  would  soon  lie  chained,  away  from  his 
people  whom  he  so  dearly  loved,  away  from  the 
open  air  and  the  sunlight  and  the  shadows  of 
clouds  sweeping  over  the  fields.  And  his  head 
sank  for  an  instant  upon  his  breast,  and  as  he 
spoke  again  there  was  a  slight  tremble  in  his 
voice,  though  he  tried  hard  to  throw  it  off :  — 

"  Had  I  but  kept  my  tongue  between  my 
teeth  I  might  have  been  some  personage,  if  but 
a  parson  of  a  town,  and  men  would  have  spoken 
well  of  me ;  and  all  this  I  have  lost  for  the  lack  of 
a  word  here  and  there  to  some  great  man,  and 


64  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

a  little  winking  of  the  eyes  amidst  murder  and 
wrong  and  unruth.  Now  it  is  too  late,  the  hemp 
for  me  is  sown  and  grown  and  heckled  and  spun." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  a  strong  voice  cried,  "  we  shall 
march  upon  the  gaol  and  demand  you  of  the 
Archbishop  himself.  We  shall  come  fifty  thou 
sand  strong,  and  we  shall  burst  down  the  gaol  if 
he  refuse  us." 

"  His  head  shall  yet  decorate  a  post  and  you 
shall  live  to  see  it,"  shouted  another  daring  soul. 
His  remark  was  greeted  with  cheers. 

Ball  held  up  one  hand  for  silence,  a  great  light 
of  love  irradiating  his  face. 

"Ay,  fear  not  that  I  have  wrought  all  these 
years  in  vain.  For  while  the  great  tread  down 
the  little,  and  strong  beat  down  the  weak,  and 
cruel  men  fear  not,  and  kind  men  dare  not,  and 
wise  men  can  not,  the  saints  in  heaven  bid  me  not 
forbear.  I  wot  well  because  of  fellowship  it  will 
not  fail,  though  I  seem  to  fail  when  the  Arch 
bishop  lays  his  hands  on  me.  But  in  the  days 
hereafter  shall  I  and  my  work  yet  be  alive,  and 
men  be  holpen  by  them  to  strive  again  and  yet 
again." 

And  with  his  voice  and  demeanor  grown  solemn 
once  more  with  the  thought  of  the  long  wait 
which  must  be  endured  before  they  could  come 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  65 

together  again,  he  uttered  over  them  the  same 
beautiful  benediction  which  had  arisen  centuries 
before  on  the  lips  of  Paul :  — 

"  Now  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  through  the  name  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  there  be  no  divisions  among  you.  Watch 
ye,  stand  fast  in  the  faith,  quit  you  like  men,  be  strong.  Let 
all  that  ye  do  be  done  in  love." 

Strong  men  were  bowed  in  grief,  and  their 
broad  shoulders  shook  with  sobs.  The  women  and 
children  straggling  about  the  outer  edge  of  the 
throng  wept  openly  and  long.  But  Robert  Annys 
rushed  forward  and,  making  his  way  to  the  foot 
of  the  cross,  flung  himself  there  on  his  knees  and 
cried  out  passionately :  — 

"  Nay,  nay,  John  Ball,  beloved  master,  fear  not, 
neither  shall  your  work  fail  now,  nor  shall  it  seem 
to  fail.  For  from  this  moment  I  give  myself  to 
it,  body  and  soul.  And  I  pledge  myself  to  stand 
in  your  place  and  do  whatsoever  you  would  have 
me  do  while  you  are  gone  from  us." 

An  astonished  silence  greeted  these  words,  for 
it  had  been  pretty  freely  rumored  that  the  arch- 
deaconate  of  Ely  had  been  offered  to  the  young 
poor  priest,  and  that  he  would  never  be  able  to 
withstand  the  temptation  to  throw  off  the  russet 
sacking  and  don  the  albe  and  stole.  When  it  was 


66  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

realized  that  the  bribe  of  high  office  had  not 
caused  him  to  desert  the  cause  of  the  people,  the 
enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds ;  men  wrung  their 
neighbors'  hands,  and  tears  of  joy  ran  down 
bronzed  cheeks.  John  Ball  knew  well  that  Rob 
ert  Annys  was  a  man  of  great  power  and  elo 
quence,  and  he  smiled  gladly  when  he  heard  his 
earnest  words.  He  raised  the  young  priest  to  his 
feet,  and  clasped  his  hands  warmly,  and  gazed 
long  and  earnestly  into  his  face.  And  the  people 
there  assembled  looked  up  at  those  two  strong 
souls  standing  united  before  the  cross.  And  be 
cause  of  that  sight,  they  bade  farewell  to  their 
leader  less  sorrowfully  than  if  they  had  none  other 
to  look  to  for  help  and  guidance. 


A  TALE  OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING  67 


VI 

INTO  the  Bishop's  chamber  the  Legate  entered, 
smiling.  There  were  many  things  in  the  turn  of 
events  that  went  to  make  up  his  scarce  concealed 
satisfaction.  To  be  sure,  the  times  were  troub 
lous,  and  a  grave  uneasiness  was  over  the  land, 
yet  to  Pietro  Barsini  the  end  in  view  ever  justified 
the  means,  and  there  was  no  denying  that  the  old 
enemies  of  the  Church,  the  Barons,  were  becom 
ing  wonderfully  meek  and  approachable  under 
the  pressure  of  their  present  difficulties. 

The  discontent  and  threatened  rising  of  the 
people  against  their  overlords  had  thrown  the 
Aristocracy — Bishops  and  Barons  —  into  a  union, 
or  semblance  of  union.  Both  were  landowners, 
and  were  absorbed  in  the  problem  of  putting  a 
man  behind  the  plough  and  keeping  him  there. 
Untilled  lands  and  rotting  corn  became  of  more 
importance  than  Rights  of  Mortmains,  Spirit 
ualities,  Peter's  Pence,  Rights  of  Investiture,  or 
other  trifling  matters  over  which  Churchmen  and 
Barons  had  quarrelled. 


68  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

Thus  it  came  about  that  at  that  time  for  a  brief 
instance  the  lion  lay  down  with  the  lamb.  A  true 
Churchman,  such  as  was  Pietro  Barsini,  could  find 
much  indeed  to  relish  in  the  situation.  Not  only 
was  the  mighty  English  Baronage  turned  from 
an  enemy  into  an  ally,  but  there  was  the  unregen- 
erate  past  to  do  penance  for.  Therefore  rich  gifts 
and  many  altars  and  chantries  and  noble  additions 
to  cathedrals  began  to  find  their  way  to  the 
Church  from  the  repentant  sinners.  Many  and 
profitable  were  the  Plenary  and  Special  Indul 
gences  granted  to  undo  the  direful  Past ;  and  if 
perchance  to  the  contrite  purchaser  redemption 
seemed  to  come  a  trifle  high,  a  sight  of  his  rotting 
corn,  or  bleating  sheep,  or  distressed  kine,  speedily 
brought  him  to  terms. 

The  Cardinal  could  find  it  in  his  heart  almost  to 
love  some  of  those  hardy,  obstinate  Barons,  his 
new-found  friends,  but  for  the  Bishop  of  Ely  he 
had  only  unmitigated  scorn.  He  could  understand 
an  out  and  out  enemy,  but  these  half  enemies  and 
half  friends,  these  Churchmen  who  are  ever  prat 
ing  of  reform  from  within,  and  who  one  minute 
are  as  fiercely  denouncing  the  head  of  the  Church, 
as  the  next  they  are  anathematizing  the  heretics 
and  would-be  robbers  of  the  Church,  —  these  he 
frankly  could  not  understand  at  all.  Thomas  of 


A  TALE  OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  69 

Ely  was  his  special  detestation ;  he  had  no  patience 
with  his  absurd  strictures  regarding  the  confer 
ring  of  benefices  only  on  worthy  and  pious  Church 
men.  The  Hierarchy  in  the  eyes  of  the  Nuncio 
was  a  vast  and  powerful  machine  of  intricate 
workings.  If  one  delicate  part  of  the  machine 
refused  to  work,  there  must  be  plenty  of  oil  to 
lubricate  it, —  oil  in  the  shape  of  emoluments  was 
vastly  more  important  to  the  usefulness  of  the 
machine  than  such  abstract  qualities  as  piety  or 
chastity.  There  were  certain  crowned  heads  to 
be  soothed,  certain  fierce  Barons  to  be  placated, 
certain  wily  Counts  to  be  won  over,  here  and  there 
a  Queen  to  be  flattered,  or  a  rival  to  be  disposed 
of  at  a  safe  distance ;  therefore  there  must  be 
benefices  to  bestow  with  wise  discrimination,  here 
one  in  Sicily,  there  one  in  Burgundia,  there  one  in 
Flanders  or  in  France,  or  maybe  in  England. 

The  Cardinal  inquired  most  considerately  into 
the  Bishop's  state  of  health.  His  greeting  was 
as  smooth  and  affable  as  ever,  yet  the  Bishop 
could  read  the  malicious  triumph  that  bubbled 
beneath  the  calm  surface. 

"  Too  bad,  too  bad,"  began  his  visitor,  in  suave 
tones,  "  that  a  hempen  rope  should  be  the  end  of 
so  promising  a  youth." 

"  How  say  you  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Bishop,  startled. 


?o  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  I  say  that,  though  we  thought  so  cannily  to 
have  put  salt  on  the  tail  of  our  bird,  yet  having 
left  him  alone  in  the  gilded  cage,  he  hath  found 
it  in  his  power  to  fly  away." 

The  Bishop's  dream-structure  in  which  he  had 
just  been  wandering  fell  to  the  ground  with  a 
crash.  The  thought  of  that  beautiful  youth  by 
his  side,  enthusiastic,  eloquent,  fearless,  assisting 
him,  brightening  his  declining  years,  had  been 
very  sweet.  Momentarily  he  had  been  expecting 
his  arrival  to  be  announced.  And  this  was  the 
end  of  his  hopes !  He  was  too  profoundly  cha 
grined  not  to  show  it. 

"  H'm !  "  he  said,  half  to  himself,  "  I  had  thought 
to  bring  him  home  with  me." 

"  Doubtless,"  insinuated  the  Cardinal  Barsini, 
"had  he  come  to  my  Lord  Bishop's  hospitable 
mansion,  he  would  have  found  the  cage  altogether 
too  heavily  gilded  to  have  stirred  his  wings." 

"  He  was  deep  in  prayer.     What  could  I  ?  " 

"  111  it  behooves  me  to  suggest.  However  it 
might  have  been,  since  it  is  true  that  he  hath 
slipped  from  between  our  fingers,  Holy  Church 
will  have  to  limp  along  as  best  she  can  without 
his  valuable  aid." 

His  listener  winced  at  the  irony,  but  returned 
it  with  interest. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  71 

"Tell  me  all  about  it, you  know  all"  he  said, 
with  quiet  emphasis.  For  well  it  was  known  that 
nothing  happened  in  all  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  land  without  the  cognizance  of  the  Legate. 
The  "  Pope's  spy  "  the  people  nicknamed  him. 

"  I  know  only  that  the  mad  priest  whom  you 
have  refused  to  place  in  irons,  John  Ball,  appeared 
yestere'en  at  the  cross-roads,  and  as  he  had  but 
just  arrived  and  never  has  been  known  to  keep 
his  tongue  long  between  his  teeth,  he  straightway 
gave  one  of  his  seditious,  incendiary  harangues 
(though  he  doth  call  them  sermons),  urging  his 
hearers  to  hold  together  against  the  just  decrees 
of  Parliament  and  the  King's  —  " 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  the  Bishop,  im 
patiently,  "  I  know  all  you  would  say  against  this 
Ball,  for  I  have  heard  it  many  times ;  but  tell  me 
what  did  take  place  that  concerns  this  young 
Annys." 

The  Legate's  beady  eyes  snapped.  "  And  it 
befell  that  the  young  protege  of  your  Reverence 
was  among  those  that  listened,"  he  concluded. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  Bishop,  with  a  long-drawn- 
out  sigh.  Well  he  knew  how  strong  an  influence 
such  a  man  as  Ball  would  have  upon  the  high- 
spirited  young  priest  just  at  that  point  in  his 
career. 


72  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"And  then  just  as  Ball  bade  them  all  fare 
well,  and  announced  that  he  was  walking  straight 
into  the  arms  of  the  Archbishop's  men  at  Kent, 
this  hot-head  of  ours  boldly  flings  himself  from 
out  the  crowd,  and  throwing  himself  at  Ball's  feet, 
proclaims  himself  Ball's  successor,  and  swears 
eternal  allegiance  to  the  Cause." 

The  Bishop  groaned  aloud :  "  Why  are  they  so 
misguided  as  to  persecute  this  Ball  ?  It  will  cost 
Sudbury  his  head,  this  action,  mark  my  words. 
If  they  clap  him  into  gaol  he  will  but  come  forth 
stronger  than  ever.  Can  they  not  or  will  they 
not  see  that  their  methods  of  repression  are  but 
heaping  fuel  on  the  fire  ?  Can  they  not  or  will 
they  not  see  that  all  may  yet  come  well  without 
violence,  if  their  leaders  are  not  suppressed,  if 
there  be  talkings  and  gatherings,  ay !  and  march 
ings  if  they  will?  The  people  have  some  just 
grievances,  though,  to  be  sure,  they  are  greatly 
and  criminally  exaggerated ;  but  let  them  talk  of 
them,  and,  mark  me,  they  will  not  bite  near  so 
deep.  Let  me  tell  you,  and  the  Primate  of  Eng 
land,  ay !  and  the  King  himself,  that  the  people 
are  now  in  a  mood  to  accept  small  concessions ; 
let  this  go  farther,  and  persecute  them  more,  and 
thrones  may  tremble  ere  they  cry  '  Enough  ! ' ' 

"  What  concessions  ? "  asked  the   Legate,  an- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  73 

grily.  "  Make  concessions  to  the  wild,  turbulent 
mob  that,  given  its  way,  will  yet  plant  a  burning 
torch  on  every  palace  and  castle  in  the  land ! " 

"  Nay,"  gently  interposed  the  Bishop,  "  it  is  to 
prevent  such  a  rebellion  that  I  would  make  just 
concessions  now." 

"Just  concessions,  indeed  !  Basta!" 
"  Ay,"  reiterated  the  Bishop,  "just  concessions  ! 
For  it  is  true  that  the  wages  doled  to  the  workers 
are  scarce  enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together, 
and  the  Poll  Tax,  which  hath  been  taken  three 
times  these  past  four  years,  falls  heavier  upon  the 
very  poor  than  any  others.  For  well  is  it  known 
that  the  rich  have  an  argument  in  their  purse 
that  goeth  straightway  to  the  heart  of  the  tax- 
gatherer.  And  mark  me,  my  friend,  you  may 
think  the  people  get  used  to  the  raping  of  their 
women  by  these  same  insolent  tax-gatherers  and 
sheriffs  and  King's  men,  as  eels  get  used  to  being 
skinned.  But,  after  all,  praise  to  the  Most  High, 
man  made  in  the  image  of  God  is  not  an  eel. 
The  nobles  cannot  hope  to  go  on  with  impunity 
treading  down  the  most  sacred  rights  of  human 
beings.  For  the  spark  of  divinity  in  man  cannot 
let  him  remain  long  at  the  level  of  beasts ;  and  it 
is  a  spark  that  neither  you  nor  Baron  can  quite 
stamp  out,  because  it  is  from  God." 


74  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

The  old  man  paused,  and  rested  for  a  moment 
with  his  head  on  his  hands  as  if  weary  and  dis 
couraged  ;  but  the  Legate  paced  up  and  down 
angrily,  holding  his  arms  tightly  folded  before 
his  breast,  as  if  to  shut  in  the  bitter  words  that 
rose  within  him.  When  the  old  man  spoke  again 
it  was  at  first  gently,  and  slowly,  and  then,  as  his 
indignation  voiced  itself,  the  words  came  bub 
bling  up  hot  from  him,  faster  and  faster. 

"  Do  you  not  see,"  he  said,  "  that  the  greatest 
danger  is  to  be  apprehended  from  a  martyr?  It 
was  the  worship  of  the  martyrs  in  the  secret  Cata 
combs  that  knit  firmly  together  the  bones  of  young 
Christianity.  Could  the  Holy  Catholic  Church 
ever  have  grown  into  the  most  powerful  body  in 
the  world,  had  it  from^the  very  first  been  fed  on 
opulence  and  power  ?  " 

"  Yea,  I  have  heard,"  sneered  the  Legate,  trying 
hard  to  hide  his  rage,  "  that  the  Bishop  of  Ely 
holds  it  Christlike  to  stir  up  the  people  against 
all  authority." 

The  Bishop's  face  grew  cold  and  hard.  "  On 
the  contrary,"  he  began  severely,  "  I  deprecate  the 
teachings  of  Ball  just  so  far  as  they  give  rise  to 
rebellion  and  disorder.  I  hold  that  the  people 
are  not  ready  to  rule  themselves ;  I  firmly  believe 
that  were  the  mandates  of  Ball  to  be  obeyed  there 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING  75 

would  follow  disruption  and  chaos,  for  I  remem 
ber  the  words  of  Paul :  — 

" '  I  fed  you  with  milk,  not  with  meat,  for  ye  were  not  yet 
able  to  bear  it ;  nay,  not  even  now  are  ye  able  ;  for  ye  are  yet 
carnal,  for  there  is  among  you  jealousy  and  strife.' 

"  I  hold  that  the  people  should  be  fed  for  yet  a 
while  with  milk.  I  hold  that  they  are  not  yet 
ready  to  bear  meat ;  yet,  Pietro  Barsini,  that  is 
precisely  what  Ball  is  feeding  them  with.  He  is 
giving  them  strong  meat  whether  they  can  bear 
it  or  no.  Beware,  Pietro  Barsini,  beware,  for  the 
time  is  coming  when,  once  having  tasted  of  the 
meat,  they  shall  no  longer  remain  satisfied  with 
the  milk,  and,  when  it  is  held  to  their  lips,  they 
shall  turn  from  it.  When  that  time  comes,  look 
you,  look  you  to  it  well,  for  the  foundations  on 
which  such  as  you  rest  will  crumble  away,  and  not 
so  much  as  one  stone  shall  remain." 

Exhausted  by  his  vehemence,  the  old  man's 
head  fell  wearily  on  his  breast,  and  the  Italian 
stole  noiselessly  away. 


76  ROBERT  ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 


VII 

WHEN  Robert  Annys  was  announced,  a  mes 
sage  was  sent  to  him,  bidding  him  be  a  guest  at 
dinner,  which  was  just  on  the  point  of  being  served, 
and  promising  him  private  audience  immediately 
after.  So  he  waited  in  one  of  the  stately  apart 
ments  of  the  superb  palace,  and  looked  on  the 
walls  and  ceilings,  all  wainscoted  with  oak  so 
carefully  chosen  that  the  better  part  of  a  forest 
must  have  been  sacrificed  to  it,  and  on  the  rich 
tapestries  and  hangings,  and  wondered  that  those 
calling  themselves  servants  of  God  should  be 
housed  in  palaces  of  brick  and  stone  with  ten 
windows  to  a  front  and  three  stories,  one  on  the 
other,  while  those  to  whom  they  ministered  in  the 
name  of  Christ  were  huddled  together  in  miser 
able  huts  of  clay  with  roofs  of  moss  or  turf. 

His  host  did  not  keep  him  waiting  long.  Al 
most  immediately  after  he  had  cordially  greeted 
his  guest,  the  maitre  (F hotel  announced  dinner, 
and  the  strangely  mated  couple  made  their  way 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING  77 

to  the  Great  Hall.  The  Bishop  staked  a  good 
deal  upon  the  surroundings  in  which  Annys  now 
found  himself.  He  counted  upon  a  certain  refined 
delicacy  that  he  noted  in  the  poor  priest,  a  sensi 
tiveness  to  environment  that  would  make  him 
respond  to  the  luxury  and  elegance  about  him. 
He  hoped  that  Annys  might  reflect  that  all  this 
power  and  wealth  might  be  his  if  he  would  but 
stretch  forth  his  hand,  and  that  thereby  the  influ 
ence  of  the  scene  at  the  cross-roads  might  yet  be 
overcome.  But  the  Bishop  was  too  late ;  a  few 
hours  before,  and  it  might  have  seemed  a  goodly 
thing  to  Robert  Annys  to  entertain  in  this  lordly 
fashion,  it  might  have  seemed  a  Christly  thing  to 
toss  discarded  crusts  and  broken  pieces  of  meat 
into  a  jewelled  bowl  that  its  contents  might  be 
thrown  to  the  beggars  clamoring  before  the  gate ; 
but  now  a  higher  conception  of  Christliness  mas 
tered  him.  He  had  been  too  profoundly  moved 
at  the  cross-roads,  the  whole  scene  had  come  to 
him  too  directly  as  the  answer  of  God  to  his  prayer, 
for  him  to  respond  readily  to  what  went  on  about 
him.  Instead,  a  profound  disgust  seized  upon  him, 
a  bitter  contempt  for  this  kind  of  Christianity,  so 
that  he  could  scarce  restrain  himself  from  rising 
and  openly  rebuking  the  Bishop  for  all  this  un 
seemly  pomp  and  splendor. 


78  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

They  sat  at  the  raised,  or  great  table  as  it  was 
called,  facing  the  other  tables,  which  were  set 
longitudinally,  and  which  were  only  boards  laid 
upon  trestles  so  that  they  could  easily  be  removed 
to  permit  the  floor  to  be  spread  with  fresh  rushes 
after  the  evening  meal.  These  rushes  served  as 
a  bed  for  all  who  assembled  there,  for  the  hospi 
tality  of  my  Lord  Bishop  was  never  questioned. 
Let  merchants,  priests,  jesters,  clerks,  scholars 
from  Oxford,  or  mummers,  all  lie  there  and  wel 
come  ;  to-morrow  the  tables  would  be  set  up  again 
with  plenty  for  all. 

Before  anything  was  brought  in  to  eat,  a  liveried 
fellow  knelt  before  each  guest  at  the  high  table, 
holding  a  beautiful  silver  ewer  rilled  with  scented 
water  into  which  to  dip  the  hands,  followed  by 
another  fellow  similarly  liveried  who  passed  a  soft 
linen  napkin  upon  which  to  dry  them.  Then  came 
trenchers  of  fresh  white  bread  on  which  to  place 
their  meat,  the  folk  below  at  the  long  tables 
receiving  only  the  ordinary  trenchers  of  wood 
which  could  be  scraped  to  serve  for  many  meals. 
Looking  at  these  trenchers,  Annys  thought  sadly 
of  the  miserable,  coarse,  black  bread  made  of 
beans  or  coarsely  pounded  oats  that  must  answer 
for  the  poor.  And  he  thought  of  the  sweat 
with  which  even  such  poor  stuff  must  be  earned. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  79 

Pondering  over  all  this,  the  delicate  sole,  found 
only  on  the  tables  of  the  great,  the  fine  almonds, 
the  roasted  figs,  and  colored  sugar-plums  seemed 
to  choke  him.  His  Piers  must  content  himself 
with  a  dish  of  herrings  and  onions,  and  perhaps 
an  infrequent  bit  of  cheese,  or  still  less  frequent 
scrap  of  meat.  He  bethought  him  of  how  that 
great-hearted  poet  of  the  Malvern  Hills  had  cried 
out  that  all  mischief  proceeds  from  the  clergy, 
who  ought  to  set  an  example  of  holy  poverty, 
and  who  rather  emulated  the  splendor  of  knight 
hood  :  — 

"  Now  is  religion  a  rider,  a  buyer  of  land  as  though  he  were  a 
lord." 

The  Bishop,  reading  nothing  of  what  was  going 
on  in  the  poor  priest's  mind,  now  bent  toward 
him  courteously  and  sought  to  fix  his  attention 
upon  the  luxury  and  elegance  of  the  banquet. 
He  deprecated  to  him  the  fact  that,  as  it  was  a 
fast-day,  he  was  unable  to  offer  more  bountiful 
hospitality.  Annys  could  scarce  restrain  a  smile 
at  the  ingenuity  of  the  cook,  who  certainly  might 
well  have  shone  in  a  clerkly  career,  so  well  did  he 
know  how  to  obey  the  letter  and  ignore  the  spirit. 
For,  first  there  was  served  to  each  guest,  on 
being  seated,  a  quarter  of  a  pint  of  grenache. 


8o  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

Then  came  roast  apples  with  white  sugar-plums 
on  them,  roasted  figs,  sorrel,  watercress,  and  rose 
mary.  Then  a  soup  made  of  trout,  tenches,  white 
herring,  fresh-water  eels,  whiting,  almonds,  ginger, 
saffron,  cinnamon  powder,  and  sweetmeats.  This 
was  followed  by  soles  and  salmon  for  salt-water 
fish  ;  and  pike  with  roe,  carps,  and  breams  for 
fresh-water  fish  should  they  be  preferred.  Besides 
all  this  there  were  side  dishes  of  oranges  and 
apples,  and  rice  with  fried  almonds  upon  it. 

Fast-day  forsooth  !  Was  there  not  epitomized 
herein  the  very  condition  into  which  the  Church 
of  Christ  had  fallen,  its  true  life  blighted  in  the 
killing  frost  of  ritualism  ? 

When  the  last  sugar-plum  had  been  passed  by 
the  servitors,  and  the  chairs  and  benches  were 
shoved  somewhat  back  from  the  boards,  and  all 
sat  about  in  easy  postures,  the  harpist  up  in  the 
beautiful  oriole  played  sweet  music.  A  youth 
with  a  treble  of  thrilling  sweetness  sang  to  them 
of  the  uncertainty  of  this  life,  for  the  Bishop  per 
mitted  no  ribald  love  songs  to  be  sung  in  his  hall. 
Then  there  followed  a  hymn  to  Jesus  Christ :  — 

"  With  noble  meat  He  nourished  my  kind 
for  with  His  flesh  He  would  me  feed. 
A  better  food  may  no  man  find, 
for  to  lasting  life  it  will  us  lead," 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  81 

After  this  came  a  psalm  of  David,  set  to  a  quaint 
and  plaintive  air ;  but  the  Bishop,  now  perceiving 
that  his  guest  was  ill  at  ease,  summoned  a  ser 
vant,  and  throwing  him  a  purse  of  gold  to  be 
divided  among  the  minstrels,  bade  Annys  follow 
him  to  his  solar. 

Annys  did  so  with  Piers'  complaint  of  the  great 
Churchmen  of  the  day  ringing  in  his  ears :  — 

"  With  change  of  many  manner  meats, 
With  song  and  solos  sitting  long, 
And  after  meat  with  harpe  and  song 
And  each  man  mote  him  lords  call." 

When  they  reached  the  Bishop's  private  cham 
ber,  Thomas  of  Ely  laid  his  hand  kindly  upon  the 
young  man's  head. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  I  have  heard.  Would  to 
God  it  were  otherwise,  but  I  hear  that  thou  hast 
seen  a  light  and  must  follow  it." 

Annys  bowed  his  head  gravely.  Then,  sud 
denly  throwing  himself  upon  his  knees  before  the 
Bishop,  he  exclaimed  in  a  broken  voice  :  — 

"  Father,  I  have  chosen  the  difficult  way.  Help 
me  that  my  feet  do  not  falter." 

The  old  man  was  deeply  moved,  and  stooped 
and  embraced  the  young  priest,  who  began :  — 

"After  the  Mass  in  the  Cathedral,  I  lay  a  long 
while  before  the  altar  in  prayer.  I  knew  not 


82  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

whither  to  turn.  All  that  you  had  said  to  me 
with  such  powerful  eloquence  I  argued  over  again 
and  again.  All  that  had  drawn  me  to  the  work 
of  my  master  John  Wyclif  also  passed  again  and 
again  through  my  mind.  I  do  not  know  how  long 
I  lay  there  on  the  cold  stones,  I  know  only  that 
when  I  went  out  into  the  open,  the  tops  of  the 
pines  were  draining  the  last  dregs  of  the  red 


sun." 


He  paused  for  an  instant,  and  then,  looking 
earnestly  into  the  prelate's  face,  "  I  preached  a 
goodly  sermon,  did  I  not  so  ? "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  Never  before  did  I  listen  to  one  more  timely, 
nor  one  that  stirred  me  more  profoundly." 

"  Yea,  I  felt  that.  See,  I  hide  naught  from  you. 
Yet,  Father,  I  did  not  feel  glad  that  it  was  given 
me  to  help  others  that  heard  me,  rather  was  I 
puffed  up  with  pride  that  /could  so  speak,  that  / 
could  so  touch  and  sway  others.  There  stirred 
within  me  all  the  forces  of  Pride,  and  Love  of 
Power  for  its  own  sake,  which  are  the  favorite 
minions  of  Satan." 

"  Ah  !  my  son,  my  son  !  " 

"  The  mighty  Minster  with  all  its  wealth  of 
associations,  with  all  its  noble  and  splendid 
beauty,  the  pageantry  and  glory  of  the  Mass, 
Father,  the  pulsations  of  the  glorious  organ, — 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  83 

all  overpowered  me  with  a  flood  of  self-worship. 
The  future  rose  before  me  full  of  pomp  and  glory. 
I  saw  myself  rise  step  by  step  within  the  Church 
until  not  one  step  remained  above  me.  Not  one 
step.  I  saw  myself  enthroned  on  the  chair  of  the 
Apostle,  I  saw  before  me  as  in  a  vision  the  wait 
ing  throng  in  the  vast  plaza  before  St.  Peter's,  I 
heard  the  chanting  of  the  Papal  choir,  I  caught 
sight  even  of  the  glittering  troops  lining  the 
plaza,  I  heard  the  boom  of  the  cannons  of  St. 
Angelo  firing  their  grand  salute,  and  I  rose  up 
and  blessed  the  great  concourse  that  knelt  before 
me.  Oh,  at  that  moment  I  cared  naught  for 
those  people,  naught  for  their  spiritual  needs; 
I  cared  only  for  my  own  aggrandizement,  my  own 
overwhelming  power.  Surely,  then,  if  ever,  were 
the  spirits  battling  for  my  soul  —  the  powers  of 
darkness  and  the  powers  of  light.  The  evil  spir 
its  whispered  to  me  that  I  was  born  for  power, 
that  I  was  able  to  sway  and  lead  men ;  but  the 
gentle  spirits  asked  me  wherefore  had  I  forsaken 
Christ  Jesus. 

"  And  then,  Father,  I  prostrated  myself  and  put 
my  whole  soul  into  a  prayer  for  guidance.  I 
implored  God  to  grant  me  a  sign  to  show  me  the 
Way  of  Everlasting  Life." 

"  Would  to  God  I  might  have  been  with  thee, 


84  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

that  I  might  have  proved  to  thee  the  Way  led 
within  the  Church." 

"  Father,  that  sign  was  vouchsafed  me." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  Yea,  faintly  there  came  borne  in  upon  me, 
kneeling  there,  the  sound  of  singing.  At  first  I 
took  it  for  the  sound  of  angels'  voices,  but  as  it 
grew  in  strength  I  knew  it  to  be  the  sound  of 
many  men  singing,  and  at  last  I  could  make  out 
the  words,  and  I  hearkened  with  all  my  heart,  for 
clearly  it  was  the  voice  of  the  Lord  speaking 
through  the  people." 

"  And  what  was  it  that  you  heard  ?  " 

" '  Jack  the  Miller  asketh  help  to  turn  his  mill  aright. 
He  hath  grounden  small,  small,  small.'  " 

"  Ay !  "  cried  the  Bishop,  "  the  song  of  the 
followers  of  John  Ball."  For  a  moment  both 
remained  in  silence,  thinking  over  the  words  of 
the  song,  and  then  the  poor  priest  went  on  with 
his  recital :  — 

"  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  scarce  offering  more  than 
a  hurried  prayer  of  thanks  that  the  answer  had 
been  vouchsafed  me,  and  dashed  out  and  followed 
the  people  who  were  running  to  the  cross-roads, 
and  there  I  did  witness  a  wonderful  sight  —  nigh 
unto  a  thousand  men  with  some  women  and  chil- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  85 

dren  gathered  there  to  hear  this  John  Ball,  who 
spake  to  them  from  the  steps  of  the  stone  cross." 

"  And  what  spake  he  ?  " 

"  Of  fellowship,  always  of  fellowship.  He 
spake  of  the  injustice  of  the  rich  and  powerful, 
yet  he  did  not  try  to  set  the  poor  against  the  rich 
as  his  enemies  say  he  doth,  but  rather  he  told 
them  that  the  rich  should  envy  the  poor,  for  to 
the  poor  is  given  fellowship  which  is  denied  the 
rich." 

"  Yea ! "  exclaimed  the  Bishop,  "  I  doubt  not 
that  this  Ball  is  sincere  enough.  He  thinks  he 
hath  right  on  his  side,  yet  once  let  the  gold  of  the 
rich  pour  into  the  laps  of  the  poor,  and  they  will 
see  that  not  only  do  they  not  use  it  better,  but  less 
well.  My  son,  many  are  the  virtues  praised  and 
glorified  by  men  like  Ball,  which  are,  after  all, 
but  the  virtues  that  come  with  poverty,  which  is 
a  state  of  far  less  temptation  than  that  of  great 
riches.  Have  a  care,  have  a  care,  my  son,  lest  the 
poor  are  roused  to  grasp  the  sceptre  from  the  rich 
before  they  are  trained  to  wield  it  worthily.  Have 
a  care,  if  this  evil  day  arise  ;  it  is  what  thy  master 
John  Wyclif  hath  warned  thee  against." 

The  pupil  of  the  great  scholar  of  Balliol  for 
an  instant  hung  his  head,  then  he  raised  it  and 
looked  full  at  the  Bishop.  "  I  know  well  there  is 


86  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

danger,"  he  said  gravely,  "and  it  will  be  my 
solemn  duty  to  preach  temperance  and  control 
to  these  people,  to  show  the  world  that  we  are 
united  in  love  of  justice  and  not  greed  for  wealth 
and  high  estate.  Yet,  Father,  it  is  now  clear  to 
me  that,  did  our  Lord  come  to  earth  to-day,  He 
would  be  found  on  the  side  of  the  rustics." 

The  Bishop  had  no  doubt  of  it.  He  did  not 
care,  however,  to  give  expression  just  then  to 
his  innermost  conviction,  that,  had  not  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church  wandered  afar  from  the  teach 
ings  and  example  of  its  Founder,  there  had  been 
no  Church  Universal. 

So  it  befell  that  when  Robert  Annys  set  out 
on  his  mission  the  blessing  of  the  Bishop  went 
with  him:  — 

"  <  Pax  Domini  sit  semper  vobiscum.' 

"  Go,  my  son,  and  may  the  grace  of  God  be  with 
you  and  the  spirit  of  the  Holy  Ghost !  " 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING  87 


VIII 

ONE  day  near  unto  a  hundred  years  before  the 
birth  of  Robert  Annys,  Sir  Humphrey  Sculton 
found  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  river  Trent, 
with  his  good  horse  struggling  under  him  against 
the  icy  flood  that  was  rushing  down  upon  them, 
and  carrying  them  always  farther  and  farther  from 
the  ford.  Sir  Humphrey's  distress  was  not  relieved 
by  the  sight  of  the  neglected  bridge  which  should 
have  borne  him  safely  from  shore  to  shore,  but  to 
whose  crumbling  stones  he  had  not  dared  trust  him 
self.  While  in  this  dire  predicament,  it  is  related 
by  himself,  he  swore  a  great  round  oath  that  by 
Our  Lady  in  Heaven  if  ever  he  should  see  again 
his  castle  and  his  good  wife  Eleanor  smiling  down 
upon  him  from  the  terrace,  he  would  not  only 
repair  the  bridge  which  the  lazy  monks  had  al 
lowed  to  rot,  but  he  would  erect  upon  it  a  fine 
chapel  to  the  Virgin,  that  all  passers-by  and  way 
farers  might  appreciate  her  protection  and  seek 
after  it.  So,  straightway  the  force  of  the  flood 
having  been  miraculously  stopped,  and  the  horse 


88  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

having  found  its  way  without  further  difficulty  to 
the  ford,  and  borne  its  master  in  safety  to  the  op 
posite  shore,  the  knight  was  as  good  as  his  word ; 
and  across  the  river  he  caused  to  be  built  a  fine 
bridge  of  stone  of  nine  arches,  while  on  its  east 
end  arose  the  beautiful  chapel  of  the  Holy  Virgin. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  eminent  example  of 
piety  and  service  to  mankind,  the  end  of  the  four 
teenth  century  again  saw  the  bridge  fallen  into 
sad  disrepair,  those  having  received  the  ponta- 
gium,  or  right  of  bridge  toll,  having  been  well 
content  to  collect  it,  together  with  the  offerings 
to  the  Holy  Virgin,  without  stirring  hand  or  foot 
to  put  the  pennies  to  use.  There  were  now  places 
where  the  deep  ruts  made  by  the  heavy  carriages 
and  carts  had  worn  through  almost  to  the  very 
last  inch  of  stone ;  indeed,  here  and  there  one 
might  peer  between  the  loosened  cobbles  and  see 
the  gray  water  flowing  beneath. 

Many  were  the  petitions  sent  to  the  King,  com 
plaining  that  "  this  one,  Adam  Fenere,  warden 
of  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  received  and 
took  away  all  manner  of  offerings  and  alms,  with 
out  doing  anything  for  the  repair  of  the  bridge  or 
the  said  chapel  as  he  was  bound  to  do." 

The  parson  of  the  neighboring  church  pro 
tested  that  it  seemed  hurtful  to  God  and  to  Holy 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  89 

Church  that  offerings  should  be  appropriated  by 
any  one  except  the  parson  within  whose  parish  the 
chapel  is  found.  Wherefore  he  prayed  "  for  God 
and  Holy  Church  and  for  the  souls  of  our  lord 
the  King's  father  and  his  ancestors,  that  he  may 
have  the  keeping  of  the  said  chapel  annexed 
to  his  church,  together  with  the  charge  of  the 
bridge."  And  he  further  promised  "  that  he  will 
take  heed  with  all  care  to  maintain  them  well,  for 
the  profit  and  honor  of  Holy  Church,  to  please 
God  and  all  the  people  passing  that  way." 

To  this  strange  medley  of  the  human  and  the 
divine  the  King  made  his  usual  cautious  reply, 
"  Ly  roi  s'avisera,"  for  this  Adam  was  not  with 
out  powerful  friends  at  court ;  and,  before  the  mat 
ter  was  satisfactorily  adjusted,  there  came  along 
this  bridge  one  day  a  short,  rotund  traveller  who, 
although  in  pilgrim's  garb,  yet  rode  a  most  excel 
lent  mount.  This  fellow  drew  in  his  rein  and 
looked  in  frank  amazement  at  certain  clear  signs 
of  repair  which  were  going  on  about  him. 

"  What  then !  by  Our  Lady,  hath  the  old  skin 
flint  yonder  of  his  own  free  will  taken  to  yield 
some  of  the  silver  from  his  maw,  or  hath  he  been 
forced  to?" 

"  Nay,"  replied  one  of  the  laborers,  pausing  for 
an  instant  in  the  placing  of  a  heavy  stone,  "  Nay, 


90  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

trust  Adam  Fenere  not  to  give  up  aught  of  what 
is  once  between  his  fingers ;  nay,  'tis  him  yonder 
that  did  set  us  all  working,  'tis  him  yonder." 

The  pilgrim  looked  in  the  direction  indicated, 
and  was  surprised  to  see  a  poor  priest,  of  delicate 
build  and  saintly  aspect,  of  the  kind  that  attracts 
women  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church  (or,  as  this 
fellow  Stott  was  accustomed  to  put  it,  to  the 
bosom  of  the  Churchman),  who  yet  was  directing 
the  work  of  repair  with  great  vigor,  even  carry 
ing  and  placing  stones  that  seemed  all  too  heavy 
for  his  strength. 

"  H'm,  h'm,"  murmured  the  pilgrim  to  himself. 
"  Seems  better  fitted  to  be  a  boudoir  saint  than 
a  builder  of  bridges." 

"  Good  morrow,"  he  cried  to  the  poor  priest, 
who  now  looked  up  wearily  from  his  task,  press 
ing  a  lean  hand  to  his  brow,  "  good  morrow ! 
How  comes  it,  Sir  Russet-priest,  that  I  find  you 
doing  this  work  ?  Surely  those  hands  have  been 
accustomed  rather  to  the  turning  of  the  pages  of 
a  breviary  than  to  the  placing  of  stones." 

The  young  poor  priest  flushed  deeply,  and 
there  shot  from  his  eyes  that  flash  which  in  cer 
tain  men  is  more  compelling  than  the  flash  of 
steel ;  yet  he  answered  quietly,  "  I  do  the  work  of 
my  Master,  wheresoever  it  leads  me." 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  91 

"  And  do  you  hold  the  building  of  bridges  in 
greater  repute  than  the  saying  of  Aves,  or  is 
it  mayhap  that  you  wish  to  become  a  famous 
pontiff?  "  the  fellow  chuckled. 

The  play  upon  words  evoked  no  smile  from  the 
earnest  young  poor  priest,  whose  retort,  however, 
waited  not  an  instant.  "  Nay,  but  I  find  the  land 
overflowing  with  those  who  will  say  '  Hail  Marys ' 
from  Matin  to  Vespers,  but  I  do  not  find  over 
many  ready  to  cut  stones  and  repair  the  high 
ways." 

"  Why  not  get  down  and  help  us  ?  "  asked  one 
burly  fellow  of  the  traveller.  "  Wot  you  that  the 
Bishop  hath  granted  sixty  days'  indulgence  to  all 
who  do  the  pious  work  of  repairing  roads  or 
bridges  ? " 

The  fat  pilgrim  shook  with  laughter.  "  Water 
will  freeze  in  May,"  he  answered,  "  before  you  see 
Hugo  Stott  laboring  in  the  highroad.  And  as 
for  remittances  of  penances,"  he  pointed  signifi 
cantly  to  the  vernicle  sewed  conspicuously  in 
his  cap  to  show  that  he  had  but  lately  returned 
from  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  "  you  see,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  seen  somewhat  of  the  world  at  the  same 
time,  and  I  have  taken  it  leisurely  and  without 
toil,  and,  moreover,  the  Roman  ladies  are  beauti 
ful  and  complaisant."  Then,  catching  sight  of 


92  ROBERT  ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

the  scorn  in  the  eyes  of  the  poor  priest,  he  has 
tened  to  add,  "  Besides,  I  am  bent  upon  more 
important  business,  for  what  would  the  people  do 
were  I  to  fail  them  ?  " 

"  Fail  them  in  what?"  indignantly  asked  Robert 
Annys — for  the  bridge  repairer  was  he.  "To 
my  mind  you  fail  them  indeed  if  you  scorn  to 
help  them  in  keeping  in  repair  the  one  means 
they  have  of  communicating  with  one  another,  of 
hearing  of  one  another  and  keeping  up  the  bonds 
of  fellowship." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  other,  good-humoredly,  "  I 
do  my  share  in  keeping  the  roads  in  repair — thou 
in  one  way,  I  in  another." 

"  How  now,"  exclaimed  Annys,  fiercely ;  "  I  do 
not  jest." 

"  Nor  I.  Nothing  is  simpler.  Take  a  man 
who  hath  been  ordered  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
Rome,  or  even  let  us  say  Canterbury,  I  pardon 
him  his  pilgrimage  at  the  expense  of  a  few  shil 
lings,  and  by  my  help  he  hath  at  once  saved  his 
immortal  soul  and  the  road  which  he  would  have 
worn  by  his  feet." 

"  And  you  thereby  have  lined  your  pouch  with 
the  shillings,"  said  Annys,  more  amiably,  for,  much 
as  he  detested  these  pardoners  who  were  living  off 
the  ignorance  and  superstition  of  the  people,  he 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  93 

could  not  resist  a  smile  at  the  fellow's  quaint 
logic. 

"  Ay !  'Tis  an  equal  division.  I  take  the  pence 
and  they  get  the  peace.  I  do  the  wandering  and 
endure  the  hardships  of  travel "  (here  he  could 
not  help  a  grimace  as  he  saw  the  other's  keen 
eyes  fixed  pointedly  on  the  finely  groomed  horse 
with  the  luxurious  trappings,  a  mount  that  scarce 
spoke  very  eloquently  of  hardships).  "See,"  he  con 
tinued,  pointing  to  the  various  signs  and  amulets 
which  hung  in  great  profusion  about  his  neck, 
"  see,  here  are  the  ampullae  from  Canterbury,  and 
this  scallop  shell  I  got  all  the  way  from  the  shrine 
of  St.  James  in  Galicia ;  and  you  see  I  must  hunt 
up  relics  and  medals  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
while  they  bide  peaceably  at  home  and  derive  all 
the  benefits  from  them." 

There  was  something  in  the  russet  priest,  not 
withstanding  his  clear  displeasure,  that  attracted 
the  pardon  seller.  "  See  here,  Sir  Russet-priest," 
he  began,  approaching  nearer  and  lowering  his 
voice,  "  be  thou  not  so  sour-faced,  young  man. 
Thou  hast  thy  way  of  bringing  blessings  to  the 
people,  and  I  have  mine.  And  thou  must  grant 
that  we  pardoners  have  our  uses.  You  long-vis 
aged  chaps  may  do  more  to  uplift  the  people  as  ye 
call  it,  but  drat  me  if  ye  leave  them  so  merry  as  I." 


94  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Ay  !  God  wot,  they  have  little  enough  to  make 
them  merry,"  groaned  Annys. 

"  I  satisfy  the  cravings  of  their  souls  by  the 
transfer  of  a  bit  of  sow's  ear,  or  a  few  drops  of 
calf's  blood  —  so  be  it  —  or  a  bit  of  riband  or  a 
bead  or  two,  and  I  go  my  way  singing.  And  I 
come  not  with  long  face  to  prate  of  the  devil  and 
hell-fire,  but  of  jollity  and  pleasaunce,  and  if  per 
chance  they  will  none  of  my  relics,  I  am  at  no  loss, 
either,  for  I  have  here  in  my  bag  what  all  good 
wives  love,"  and  he  put  one  pudgy  hand  into  the 
huge  bag  which  hung  on  his  saddle,  and  drew 
forth  a  couple  of  shining  knives  and  some  bright 
necklaces  of  cheap  beads  and  a  gauntlet  or  two. 

"  If  so  it  chance  that  I  meet  with  a  customer 
that  is  not  likely  to  be  caught  on  the  side  of  his 
soul,  you  see  I  am  ready  at  a  turn  of  the  hand  to 
land  him  with  the  needs  of  his  body." 

There  came  into  the  poor  priest's  mind  what 
was  commonly  rumored  of  these  peddling  par 
doners,  how  no  maid  was  safe  with  them.  Even 
then  he  noted  the  man's  lascivious  mouth,  which 
parted  to  show  ugly,  yellow  fangs,  and  the  bloated 
body  which  spoke  of  every  excess,  the  small  rov 
ing  eyes  and  the  heavy  knot  of  red  eyebrows  that 
met  over  them,  the  coarse,  knobby  nose  with  red 
and  purple  veins  running  through  it  and  a  great 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  95 

wart  on  one  side,  —  a  face  for  maids  to  shrink 
from. 

And  this  man  shrived  sinful  souls ! 

"  How  long,  how  long,  O  Lord!  "  he  cried,  as 
he  watched  the  man  ride  away. 

But  before  he  was  quite  out  of  sight,  the  fellow 
turned  and  called,  "  I  shall  see  thee  at  the  Stour- 
bridge  Fair,  doubtless,"  and  Annys  nodded  an 
impatient  yes,  and  resumed  his  labors,  although 
already  he  staggered  from  fatigue. 

But  to  stagger  from  a  fatigue  that  was  purely 
physical  was  a  joy  to  Robert  Annys.  Often  worn 
and  unstrung  from  the  sense  of  the  awful  respon 
sibility  that  was  upon  him,  he  would  plunge  reck 
lessly  into  some  physical  labor  that  was  severe 
enough  to  absorb  his  every  energy.  Physical 
labor  became  his  anodyne  to  the  growing  unrest 
and  despair  that  was  in  his  heart.  In  the  task 
which  he  had  taken  up  he  suffered  even  as  the 
Bishop  had  foretold.  He  never  questioned  the 
righteousness  of  his  decision,  he  never  faltered  in 
his  work,  no  matter  how  it  taxed  his  slight  store 
of  strength,  so  long  as  he  was  upheld  by  the  knowl 
edge  that  it  helped  the  Cause  to  which  he  had 
given  his  life.  It  was  only  when  discouraged  by 
the  ignorance  and  folly  and  cruelty  of  those  whom 
he  hoped  to  serve  that  he  questioned  his  own 


96  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

power  to  accomplish  good.  During  the  nine 
months  that  had  followed  since  he  had  stepped 
into  Ball's  place,  again  and  again  had  he  been 
utterly  cast  down  by  the  terrible  dread  that  the 
actual  Uprising  would  take  place  before  the  peas 
ants  were  ready  for  it.  And  two  dire  results  were 
ever  in  his  mind :  the  one,  that  whatever  would 
be  gained  would  be  lost  again  through  lack  of 
wise  leadership  and  self-restraint ;  the  other  (and 
this  became  an  almost  daily  horror  to  him  as  he 
watched  the  humor  of  the  rustics  daily  growing 
blacker  and  blacker),  that  the  few  wise  and  true 
men  who  were  working  for  an  Ideal  would  be 
swept  aside  when  the  Uprising  came,  by  the  fierce 
and  unruly  majority,  by  men  who  had  nursed  their 
wrongs  until  they  were  no  longer  of  the  right 
mind,  men  who  would  wreak  a  fearful  vengeance 
when  their  time  should  come. 

However,  there  had  not  been  much  time 
wasted  in  wondering  or  prophesying,  for  there 
had  been  much  to  do.  The  people  welcomed 
him  eagerly  everywhere ;  and  before  he  had  done 
speaking  at  one  village,  he  had  learned  of  another 
where  they  awaited  him  anxiously.  And  so  he 
had  tramped  manfully  along  the  highway,  his 
valiant  spirit  making  him  press  on  often  when 
the  other  travellers  whom  he  encountered  gave 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  97 

way  before  floods  and  snows.  At  times,  he  too 
was  forced  to  yield  when  the  storms  rendered  the 
roads  utterly  impassable,  and  he  had  known 
many  a  slow-footed  day  pass  over  his  head  while 
he  waited  impatiently  at  some  wayside  tavern, 
and  looked  out  with  anxious  eyes  at  the  snow 
falling  and  imprisoning  him  far  from  those  that 
looked  for  him  and  counted  on  him.  At  such 
moments  of  dreary  inaction  it  was  that  his  fears 
for  the  future  weighed  heaviest. 

Wherever  he  came,  he  brought  news  of  the 
Uprising,  and  spoke  of  the  great  rendezvous  at 
Blackheath  for  which  all  must  get  ready  to  stand 
before  the  King  and  tell  him  of  their  sore  straits. 
There  was  something  pitiful  in  the  unquestion 
ing  faith  which  they  all  held  that,  their  situation 
once  known  to  their  King,  he  could  not  but  set 
them  free.  That  a  King  could  be  unkingly  did 
not  enter  their  simple,  trusting  hearts.  To  the 
men  in  all  the  realm,  to  those  of  Kent  as  well  as 
to  those  of  Essex,  to  those  of  Suffolk  as  well  as 
to  those  of  Norfolk,  the  great  plain  at  Blackheath 
was  spoken  of  as  the  great  rallying-place.  To 
the  men  of  those  counties  where  they  fared  some 
what  better  than  the  others,  he  spoke  of  the  dire 
needs  of  their  fellow-brethren  in  some  distant 
county,  and  how  they  must  all  hold  together  and 


98  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

take  up  the  cause  of  those  that  were  less  fortu 
nate  than  they.  To  those  that  were  the  most 
miserable  of  all,  he  spoke  of  their  brethren  of 
other  parts  of  the  land,  who  were  going  to  help 
and  uphold  them.  And  so  from  village  to  vil 
lage  and  county  to  county  he  went,  always  knit 
ting  closer  the  bonds  of  fellowship.  For  a  while 
the  Hierarchy  had  looked  on  and  bided  its  time. 
Yet  sooner  or  later  it  was  obliged  to  strike  a 
blow  at  this  defiant  poor  priest  who  preached  a 
doctrine  fatal  to  the  interest  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Church,  and,  moreover,  who  heartened  the  peas 
ants  in  their  absurd  mutterings  against  their 
rightful  overlords.  Already  the  Barons  were 
growing  restive  that  the  Church  should  move 
so  slowly.  If  the  powerful  Hierarchy  could 
not  crush  a  dangerous  sedition-stirring  russet 
priest  like  this,  then  of  small  use  was  their  costly 
ally. 

So  with  all  due  pomp  and  ceremony  at  St. 
Peter's  in  Rome,  the  Anathema  against  Robert 
Annys,  poor  priest,  had  been  duly  launched  by 
twelve  Cardinals  surrounding  the  Pope  upon  his 
throne.  The  solemn  bells  tolled  as  at  a  death,  and 
all  the  Cardinals  cast  their  lighted  candles  upon 
the  ground  as  they  cried  "  Fiat "  to  the  mandate 
of  their  chief.  Then  the  acolytes  trampled  upon 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING  99 

the  candles  and  extinguished  their  lights,  even  as 
the  soul  is  extinguished  that  dwells  in  hell. 

Annys  had  been  filled  with  indignant  scorn. 
"  They  would  excommunicate  Christ  Himself,  did 
He  come  upon  the  earth  to-day!"  he  said  bit 
terly.  There  was  something  horrible  to  him  in 
the  fact  that  the  head  of  the  present  Church  of 
Christ  should  cast  a  soul  into  perdition  for  going 
among  the  people  and  following  the  clear  ex 
ample  and  mandates  of  Him  whom  the  Church 
still  had  the  effrontery  to  call  its  Founder ! 
What  heresy  had  he  been  guilty  of?  He  had 
but  obeyed  St.  Paul,  who  put  love  above  all 
else. 

Love  broke  down  many  barriers,  and  solved 
many  problems.  What  question,  for  instance, 
compared  in  importance  in  Mediaeval  days  with 
the  great  controversy  over  the  Treasury  of  the 
Church  ?  Did  or  did  not  the  Founder  of  Chris 
tianity  mean  what  He  said  when  He  commanded 
that  none  should  take  heed  of  the  morrow  ? 

Upon  this  hung  the  establishments  of  sects, 
monasteries,  entire  orders,  and  also  squabbles 
without  end  between  the  Commons  and  Bish 
ops,  between  Popes  and  Emperors.  Yet  Robert 
Annys  felt  that  the  problem  lay  far  deeper  than 
either  Franciscan  or  Benedictine  or  Papal  Col- 


ioo  ROBERT  ANNYS  :    POOR   PRIEST 

lector  had  put  it ;  if  the  clergy  really  loved  their 
brethren,  their  moneys  naturally  would  slip 
through  their  fingers,  none  could  remain  either 
for  pomp  or  display,  or  for  Papal  claims.  If 
nobles  really  loved  the  poor  workers  in  the  fields, 
and  wept  over  their  poverty,  their  wealth  could 
not  roll  up  for  the  endowment  of  chantries,  the 
embroidering  of  altar  cloths,  or  the  embellish 
ment  of  the  tombs  of  saints.  The  whole  vexed 
question  would  soon  solve  itself.  Yet  Marsiglio, 
the  Italian  seer,  and  Robert  Annys,  the  English 
poor  priest  who  was  inspired  by  his  teachings, 
both  had  been  banished  from  the  Church ! 

Besides,  the  Hierarchy  could  not  forgive  the 
attempt  to  teach  the  common  folk  to  read  the 
Bible  for  themselves.  For  this  were  Wyclif  and 
all  his  followers  anathema.  A  most  pious  Church 
man  thus  made  to  Rome  his  moan :  — 

"He  translates  the  Scriptures  from  Latin  into  English,  not 
the  angelic  tongue,  whence  it  becomes  by  his  means  common 
and  more  open  to  laymen  and  the  women  who  know  how  to 
read,  than  it  is  to  tolerably  learned  and  very  intelligent  clergy 
men,  and  the  gospel  pearl  is  scattered  and  trampled  upon  by 
swine." 

Had  this  warm  defender  of  the  Church  Hie 
rarchical  witnessed  the  reverence  and  tenderness 
with  which  the  heavy  folios  were  handled  by 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          itf; 

those  same  lay  men  and  women,  had  he  witnessed 
something  of  the  patient  toil  whereby  they  gained 
the  knowledge  of  its  contents,  he  scarce  would 
have  found  it  in  his  heart  to  pen  that  contemp 
tuous  metaphor ! 


ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 


IX 

THE  low-roofed  tavern  at  Bury  Saint  Edmunds 
was  a  favorite  place  for  the  men  to  gather  together 
at  the  close  of  their  day's  work.  It  was  a  place  of 
good  cheer,  not  alone  because  there  was  ale  in 
plenty — none  of  your  cheap,  thin,  penny  ale  either, 
such  as  is  brewed  for  the  day-laborer's  dole,  but 
good  strong  ale  of  the  best  and  brownest  brew — 
nor  alone  from  the  sense  of  comradeship  that 
reigned,  but  also  because  there  was  warmth  and 
comfort  within,  while  without  it  was  dark  with 
usually  a  high  northeast  wind  racing  about  one's 
ears,  if  one  but  ventured  forth.  And,  moreover, 
there  was  light  here,  while  at  home  one  would 
have  to  go  straightway  to  bed ;  for  artificial  light, 
even  of  the  home-made  candles  of  rushes  dipped 
in  grease,  was  entirely  too  expensive  a  luxury  to  be 
wasted.  Here  at  the  tavern,  although  the  flaring 
rushlights,  stuck  high  up  over  the  oak  wainscoting, 
gave  a  rather  uncertain  light ;  yet  it  was  easy  to 
distinguish  one's  neighbors,  and  it  was  as  good 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          103 

as  one  could  expect  outside  of  the  church.  The 
church  was  the  one  place  where  hundreds  of  can 
dles  at  a  time,  of  purest  wax,  blazed  with  a  superb 
indifference  to  cost.  There  was  also  some  illu 
mination  from  the  glowing  logs  which  burned  in 
the  centre  of  the  floor,  sending  a  slender  pillar  of 
smoke  up  to  the  hole  in  the  roof  which  served  as 
a  vent.  When  the  door  of  the  tavern  was  opened, 
the  wind  drove  the  smoke  about  the  room  into 
every  crack  and  cranny,  but  none  coughed  or 
complained  of  the  smarting  of  the  eyes,  for  this 
was  a  discomfort  to  which  they  were  well  accus 
tomed. 

One  night  there  were  seated  about  the  long 
oaken  table  that  ran  the  length  of  the  room,  a 
goodly  number  of  men.  Those  at  one  end  of  the 
table  kept  their  voices  low  and  discussed  and 
planned  matters  of  grave  import,  while  from 
some  roisterers  at  the  other  end  of  the  table 
came  frequent  bold  oaths  and  hoarse  cries  of 
"  Pass  the  ale  "  and  "  Who  holds  the  bowl  ?  " 

Among  the  serious  ones  was  a  great,  power 
fully  built  fellow  whom  they  called  Ralph  Rugge, 
and  on  whom  they  looked  as  the  leader  of  the 
men  of  the  Bury.  And  there  were  Tim  the 
needle-maker,  Thomas  Pye  the  wagon-maker, 
Jack  the  smith,  and  Robert  Annys  just  arrived. 


104  ROBERT  ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

There  were  one  or  two  others,  noticeable  among 
them  all  a  youthful  giant  called  Richard  Meryl, 
towards  whose  frank,  handsome  face  the  poor 
priest's  eyes  constantly  wandered. 

After  Annys  had  taken  the  edge  off  his  hun 
ger,  doing  full  justice  to  the  food  that  was  placed 
before  him  on  a  neatly  scraped  trencher  of  hard 
oak,  Rugge  turned  to  him  and  said,  "  Hast  any 
news  from  John  Ball  ?  " 

"  I  bear  with  me  a  letter  from  him,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What,  from  gaol  ?  " 

"  Yea,  from  Maidstone  gaol  hath  he  sent  it  by 
trusty  messengers." 

A  look  of  interest  ran  from  man  to  man,  and 
they  edged  their  stools  closer  about  him.  Annys 
read  the  letter  to  them  with  many  misgivings,  for 
he  felt  that  it  but  fed  their  angry  passions,  and 
that  it  was  like  a  spark  to  a  pile  of  dried  fagots. 

"Good  people,"  the  letter  began,  "things  will  never  go  well 
in  England  so  long  as  goods  be  not  in  common,  and  so  long  as 
there  be  villeins  and  gentlemen.  By  what  right  are  they  whom 
we  call  lords  greater  folk  than  we?  On  what  grounds  have 
they  deserved  it  ?  Why  do  they  hold  us  in  serfage  ?  If  we  all 
came  of  the  same  father  and  mother,  of  Adam  and  Eve,  how 
can  they  say  or  prove  that  they  are  better  than  we,  if  it  be  not 
that  they  make  us  gain  for  them  by  our  toil  what  they  spend  in 
their  pride  ?  They  are  clothed  in  velvet  and  warm  in  their 
furs  and  their  ermines,  while  we  are  covered  with  rags.  They 
have  wine  and  spices  and  fair  bread ;  and  we  have  oat-cakes 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          105 

and  straw  and  water  to  drink.  They  have  leisure  and  fine 
houses ;  we  have  pain  and  labor,  the  rain  and  the  wind  in  the 
fields." 

"  That's  God's  truth,  God's  truth !  "  came  from 
all  sides,  enthusiastically. 

"  May  the  fires  of  hell  burn  me  if  they'll  not  be 
saying  next  that  they  did  come  from  Adam  and 
Eve,  but  that  we  came  from  some  baser  stock," 
exclaimed  young  Meryl  with  a  bitter  laugh. 

"  I  tell  you,"  added  another,  "  until  we  show 
our  lords  that  we  are  worth  to  them  as  much  as 
their  cattle,  we  shall  not  receive  the  same  care 
and  fodder." 

"  Dost  hanker  after  hay  ?  "  called  out  a  wit. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  other,  abashed  at  the 
laugh  that  followed,  "  they  are  precious  anxious 
to  keep  their  cattle  sleek  and  fat,  and  they  might 
cast  a  thought  on  their  men  to  keep  their  paunches 
fairly  well  lined." 

"  Ay !  the  cattle  must  have  the  fat  of  the  land, 
but  the  men  may  go  hungry,"  growled  Thomas  Pye. 

"  May  go  hungry,  forsooth  !  I  have  not  known 
a  day  for  many  a  month  that  I  have  had  my  fill," 
said  Tim  the  needle-maker,  wistfully. 

"  We'll  show  them,  we'll  show  them,"  cried  an 
evil-looking  fellow  with  a  leer  of  hatred.  "  Their 
cattle  cannot  burn  their  palaces  over  their  heads." 


106  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  There'll  be  no  liberty  in  this  land  until  every 
palace  lies  smoking  on  the  ground,"  agreed 
another. 

"  They  won't  be  so  glad  of  their  fine  wines  when 
they  see  us  pouring  them  down  our  throats,"  ex 
claimed  one. 

"  Nor  of  their  jewelled  goblets  when  they  see 
them  at  our  lips,"  continued  another  in  the  same 
strain. 

Annys  groaned,  for  he  had  dreaded  just  such 
an  outburst.  He  was  about  to  command  that 
this  wild  talk  cease  instantly  when  Rugge,  whose 
patience  had  also  given  way,  leaned  close  to  the 
last  speaker,  and  rammed  a  formidable-looking 
fist  into  his  face,  crying,  u  Look,  Adam  Clymme, 
the  man  who  speaks  like  that  is  a  traitor  to  the 
Cause,  and  a  worse  traitor  than  any  abbot  or 
clerk." 

The  man  jerked  back  his  head.  "What  d'ye 
mean  ?  "  he  asked  sullenly. 

"  Just  what  I  said.  Our  cause  is  just,  we  want 
to  be  free  men,  we  want  to  live  as  decent  men 
should  ;  but  that  does  not  mean  that  we  covet  the 
rich  man's  jewels  and  wines.  We  will  be  looked 
upon  as  thieves  and  murderers,  not  honest  men 
asking  for  our  rights." 

The  fellow  flushed  and  muttered  angrily,  but 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          107 

several  raised  their  voices  and  cried,  "  He's  right, 
Ralph  Rugge's  right !  "  Annys  looked  gratefully 
at  Rugge,  who  continued  warmly  :  "  They'll  be 
glad  enough  to  call  us  thieves.  We'll  take 
their  gold  and  jewels  and  fine  linens  and  burn 
them  in  great  bonfires  all  throughout  the  land  to 
show  we  don't  approve  of  such  gewgaws.  No  one 
must  say  we  are  rising  because  we  are  greedy  for 
these  things  for  ourselves.  I  warn  ye,  wherever  I 
am  in  command,  I  shall  strike  dead  the  first  man 
that  steals,  if  it  be  only  so  much  as  a  bit  of  silver." 

"  Good  !  Good  !  "  spoke  up  young  Meryl  with 
ringing  voice.  "  For  no  cause  was  ever  won  by 
thieves  and  robbers ;  we  be  honest  men  who  seek 
what  is  ours  by  right."  His  face  shone  with 
enthusiasm  as  he  spoke. 

"  Ay !  but  it  is  by  the  sweat  of  our  brows  and 
the  stoop  of  our  backs  that  the  rich  have  these 
things,"  protested  Jack  the  smith. 

But  Annys  now  spoke. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said,  "  ye  all  know  of  that 
great  and  noble  poet  Will  Langland  whose  hero 
is  Piers  Ploughman." 

"  Ay,  marry  !  we  all  know  Will  Langland." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  he  saith  of  envy,  and  we 
shall  see  that  the  counsel  of  Ralph  Rugge  is  wise 
and  just:  — 


io8  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

" '  Envy  with  her  herte  asketh  after  schrift, 

As  pale  as  a  pellet.     In  a  palesye  he  seemede, 

As  a  leek  that  had  longe  lain  in  the  sonne, 

So  looked  he  with  lene  cheekes. 

Venom  or  vinegar,  I  trow 

Is  in  my  belly  filling  me  with  wind. 

I  annoy  my  neighbor,  I  blame  him  behind  his  back, 

I  injure  and  revile  him,  I  stir  up  strife  between  him  and 

his. 
I  envy  him  his  new  clothes,  I  laugh  when  he  loses,  weep  when 

he  smiles, 
So  live  I  loveless,  and  my  brest  boils  so  bitter  is  my  gall.' 

"  Then,  when  Repentance  bids  him  be  sorry,  — 

"  *  I  am  sori,'  quod  Envy,  '  I  never  am  other 
than  sori.' 

"  Think  of  that  terrible  picture,  when  ye  are 
tempted  to  envy  the  fortune  of  others,  '/  am  never 
other  than  sori'  Do  not  let  envy  take  up  its 
dwelling-place  in  your  hearts.  Read  Holy  Writ, 
rather,  and  consider  that  such  as  have  riches  and 
joy  on  this  earth  have  received  their  reward,  but 
that  ours  is  for  all  eternity." 

When  he  had  done  speaking  the  young  man 
on  whom  the  poor  priest's  eyes  had  been  fixed 
in  a  kind  of  special  appeal  leaned  across  the 
table,  and  holding  out  a  strong  sinewy  hand, 
said :  — 

"  I  am  Richard  Meryl,  and  I  fear  I  have  been 
among  the  envious  ones ;  but  by  the  Mother  of 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          109 

Christ  thou  dost  speak  well,  and  I  shall  do  my 
best  to  hearken  unto  thee. 

"And  yet,"  he  added,  with  an  engaging  smile, 
as  Annys  wrung  his  hand  heartily,  "  and  yet  it  is 
hard  to  be  other  than  sorry  while  Covetousness 
and  Greed  rule  the  land  and  crush  us  poor  folk 
like  corn  beneath  the  stone." 

"  Ay !  "  returned  Annys,  "  I  would  have  ye  none 
other  than  sorry  for  that  —  but  sorry  to  some  pur 
pose.  What  good  will  it  do  to  rise  up  and  rule 
the  land  for  a  day?  Shall  we  not  rather  by 
patience  and  fortitude  hold  what  we  gain  for 
unborn  generations,  so  that  our  children's  chil 
dren  need  not  fight  the  great  fight  over  again, 
but  may  start  where  we  leave  off  ?  " 

"  That  my  children's  children  have  full  bellies 
easeth  not  the  wind  in  mine,"  grumbled  Jack  the 
smith. 

But  Meryl  spoke  up  hotly :  — 

"  He  who  works  only  for  to-day  will  starve  to 


morrow." 


And  Annys  felt  that  he  had  won  a  helpful 
friend. 

"  When  dost  think  the  whole  country  will  be 
ready?"  asked  Rugge  of  Annys. 

"  Plenty  yet  to  do,  plenty  to  do,"  was  the  reply. 
"  There  are  counties  where  they  await  but  the 


no  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

word,  but  there  are  others  where  they  are  none 
too  ready  to  loose  hand  from  the  plough." 

"  Ay,  those  are  the  counties  where  the  plough 
yet  yields  a  living  somewhat  better  than  a  dog's." 

"  Yea,  there  are  places  in  the  land  where  the 
Black  Death  but  took  away  enough  mouths  to  fill 
those  that  remain.  There  the  men  have  a  cold 
heart  and  an  unready  ear,  and  it  is  hard  enough  to 
beat  into  them  a  sense  of  fellowship  for  those  who 
are  suffering  and  a-hungering  afar  off.  It  is  slow 
work  getting  from  east  to  west  and  from  south 
to  north,  yet  the  good  work  prospers  surely. 
Steadily  the  people  are  coming  to  right  knowl 
edge.  More  and  more  Holy  Writ  is  being  placed 
into  their  hands,  and  it  taketh  but  small  wit  to 
see  there  is  something  awry  with  a  world  which 
matcheth  so  ill  with  its  Word." 

"  Ay !  "  cried  one  lustily,  "  did  the  world  go  by 
the  Book,  there  would  be  no  woe  and  unruth." 

"  Yes,"  spoke  up  Richard  Meryl,  "  but  the  world 
goes  not  by  the  law  of  Holy  Writ,  but  by  the  law 
of  Westminster,  and  therein  lieth  all  the  unrest. 
Did  they  not  seek  to  put  man's  law  above  God's 
law,  there  would  be  no  rebellion." 

Annys  nodded  approvingly.  There  was  some 
thing  rarely  winning  in  this  young  man. 

"  Hast  heard  of  the  new  law  which  the  Com- 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          in 

mons  have  passed?"  asked  Thomas  Pye  the 
wagon-maker  of  young  Meryl. 

"  Let  them  pass  their  laws  at  Westminster," 
exclaimed  one  man,  passionately,  "and  let's  see 
how  well  they  can  cultivate  their  lands  with 
parchment  rolls." 

"  What  have  they  done  now  ?  "  asked  Meryl. 

"  They  have  declared  that  'carters,  ploughmen, 
plough  drivers,  shepherds,  swineherds,  deyes,  and 
other  servants  should  be  content  with  such  liv 
eries  and  wages  as  they  received  in  the  twentieth 
year  of  King  Edward's  reign.' " 

" '  Declared  that  we  be  content,'  "  mocked  Tim 
the  needle-maker.  "  Have  they  so,  indeed  !  "  Then 
rising,  he  addressed  the  others  in  a  loud  voice. 
"  Fellows,  the  law  hath  declared  that  we  be  con 
tent.  Why  then  so  we  must  be  —  by  Westmin 
ster  law  which  can  call  the  sky  green  if  it  take  a 
notion  —  it  must  be  so." 

"  Content  then,"  broke  in  Ralph  Rugge,  with  a 
laugh,  "  is  but  a  matter  of  a  drop  of  ink  on  the 
end  of  a  quill." 

"  Next  they  will  fill  our  empty  stomachs  with 
parchment  sheets,"  uttered  one  fellow,  in  strong 
disgust,  whereat  a  great  laugh  went  up  because 
the  speaker,  Richard  Bole,  was  known  for  a  great 
glutton. 


ii2  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  But  that  is  not  all,"  said  the  first  speaker. 
"  They  will  not  that  one  should  depart  from  one 
part  of  the  country  to  another  to  serve,  or  reside 
elsewhere,  or  under  pretence  of  going  to  a  pil 
grimage,  without  a  letter  patent,  specifying  cause 
of  his  departure  and  time  of  his  return,  granted 
at  discretion  of  the  justice  of  the  peace." 

"Yea,"  continued  Ralph  Rugge,  taking  the 
words  out  of  the  other's  mouth,  "  and  if  such  a 
runaway  be  caught,  he  will  be  imprisoned  for  fif 
teen  days  and  branded  on  the  forehead  with  the 
letter  F ;  and  any  one  found  harboring  him  would 
be  liable  to  a  fine  of  ten  pounds." 

"  Curse  their  insolence  !  "  muttered  one  whose 
face  was  flushed  with  liquor  and  whose  hands 
trembled  with  something  other  than  indignation. 
"  Curse  their  insolence !  Next  they  will  seek  to 
plant  us  in  the  soil  with  a  spade  chained  to  our 
arms ! " 

"  Yea,  it  is  hard,"  spoke  up  Annys,  with  a  sigh ; 
u  it  is  a  bondage  worse  than  that  of  the  Hebrews 
in  Egypt;  yet  remain  steadfast  and  patient,  and 
all  must  come  right  in  the  end." 

At  the  other  end  of  the  table  the  men  grew  more 
and  more  under  the  influence  of  the  flowing  ale. 

A  strong  voice  now  rang  out  from  the  lower 
end  of  the  table :  — 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          113 

" '  To  seek  silver  to  the  king  I  my  seed  sold.'  " 

" '  Wherefore  my  land  lieth  fallow  and  learneth  to  sleep,' 

joined  in  another  voice. 

" '  Since  they  fetched  my  fair  cattle  in  the  fold  : 
When  I  think  of  my  old  wealth,  well-nigh  I  weep. 
Thus  breedeth  many  beggars  bold.'  " 

By  the  time  the  last  line  was  reached  the  whole 
room  took  it  up,  and  the  walls  shook  with  the 
song : — 

" '  And  there  wakeneth  in  the  world  dismay  and  woe 
For  as  good  is  death  anon  as  so  far  to  toil.'  " 

At  the  close  of  the  song,  Rugge  looked  about 
him,  and  singled  out  from  a  dark  corner,  where  he 
had  been  quietly  looking  on,  a  shy  lad  in  the  garb 
of  a  minstrel,  who,  hugging  his  rebec  under  his 
arm,  shambled  awkwardly  up  to  his  leader. 

"  Hither,  my  brave  boy,"  cried  Rugge,  present 
ing  him  to  Annys ;  "  this  is  Jack  Nicol,  a  better 
friend  to  the  Cause  than  those  who  swing  a  broad 
axe  or  train  an  arrow  against  those  who  live  only 
by  labor  of  tongue.  This  youth  never  opens  his 
lips  but  he  risks  a  broken  pate,  and  indeed  he  is 
very  like  to  find  himself  clapped  into  gaol  for  his 
bold  songs  which  do  stir  the  people  up  to  ask 
for  their  freedom." 


ii4  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Good  !  "  cried  Annys,  clapping  the  boy  upon 
his  back ;  "  we  shall  know  each  other  better  before 
long,  for  I  shall  have  need  of  thee." 

"  I  am  ready,"  replied  the  boy,  yet  rubbing  his 
head  somewhat  ruefully  on  the  spot  where  the 
sheriff's  stick  had  been  all  too  familiar  with  it. 

"  Yea,  these  minstrels  do  wot  well  how  to  reach 
the  heart  of  the  people,"  said  Rugge,  "  and  a  good 
stirring  rime  can  do  more  in  a  moment  than  much 
preaching  can  do  in  many  months." 

"  A  rime,  a  rime,  give  us  one  now,"  they  called 
to  the  minstrel. 

"  Yea,  a  rime,  a  rime,  a  geste !  "  ran  through 
the  room. 

The  boy  hung  back  for  an  instant,  and  then, 
putting  his  rebec  tenderly  to  his  chin,  launched 
forth  upon  the  song  that  of  all  others  stirred  the 
blood  the  quickest,  the  song  so  dear  to  the  peo 
ple  that  scarce  any  gathering  would  disperse  until 
the  rafters  rang  with  its  well-conned  words :  — 

"  '  Lithe  and  lysten,  gentylmen, 
That  be  of  freebore  blode  ; 
I  shall  you  tell  of  a  good  yeman, 
His  name  was  Robyn  Hode.'  " 

The  roisterers  looked  up  and  left  their  hands 
from  the  tankards,  the  nodding  heads  first  stiff 
ened  and  then  kept  time  to  the  rhythm,  the  sodden 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          115 

faces  brightened,  while  the  young  minstrel,  in  a 
peculiarly  sweet  voice,  sang  on  of  Robyn's  men 
asking  for  orders  before  they  should  set  out 
through  the  green  woods:  — 

"  '  Where  we  shall  take,  where  we  shall  leve, 

***** 

Where  we  shall  robbe,  where  we  shall  reve  ? '  " 

Whereupon  the  good  chief  instructs  his  loyal  fol 
lowers,  and  closes  with  the  admonition  which  went 
a  great  ways  to  account  for  his  peculiar  popularity 
with  the  people:  — 

" '  But  loke  ye  do  no  housbonde  harme 

That  tylleth  with  his  plough. 

***** 

No  more  ye  shall  no  good  yeman 

That  walketh  by  grene  wode  shawe. 

***** 

These  bysshoppes,  and  these  archebysshoppes 
Ye  shall  them  bete  and  bynde.'  " 

Each  verse  met  with  its  full  measure  of  praise, 
and  certainly  none  was  more  heartily  applauded 
than  the  last,  which  commended  to  mercy  the  soul 
of  the  brave  Robyn  :  — 

"  *  Cryst  have  mercy  on  his  soule, 

That  dyed  on  the  rode 
For  he  was  a  good  outlawe 
And  dyde  pore  men  moch  god.'  " 


n6  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Help,  help,  save  me,  hide  me  for  the  love  of 
Christ !  "  All  looked  up  startled  as  this  cry  came 
from  outside,  and  at  the  same  time  the  door  was 
flung  open  and  there  was  blown  into  the  room, 
with  the  gusty  wind,  a  man  who,  after  casting  a 
swift,  appealing  glance  at  the  faces  about  the  table, 
sank  exhausted  to  the  floor.  Even  without  the 
sudden  cry  for  help,  the  wild  appearance  of  the 
fellow  would  have  been  sufficient  to  startle  them. 
He  was  dressed  as  a  pilgrim,  and  the  long  gown 
was  rent  here  and  there,  as  if  torn  in  some  strug 
gle.  The  pilgrim's  staff,  although  still  tightly 
grasped  by  one  hand,  was  broken  off  short,  the 
vernicle  had  been  wrenched  from  his  cap  by  vio 
lent  hands,  and  now  hung  by  a  thread,  swaying 
and  bobbing  with  every  move  of  his  head.  The 
fellow's  cheeks  were  hollow,  his  sunken  temples 
throbbed  tumultuously,  his  lips  were  dry  and  pal 
lid,  his  eyes  were  wild,  his  hair  and  beard  matted 
and  unkempt. 

Here  was  before  them  one  of  the  very  pre 
tended  pilgrims  of  whom  they  had  spoken. 
Doubtless  the  sheriffs  had  seen  through  his  dis 
guise,  and  were  even  then  hot  upon  his  heels. 

The  fellow  had  sunk  at  the  feet  of  Tim  the 
needle-maker.  He  opened  his  eyes  feebly,  and 
murmured  one  more  "  Help  me  ! " 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         117 

"  Ten  pounds  fine  for  the  harboring  of  such," 
muttered  Tim,  as  he  took  to  his  heels  and  closed 
the  door  behind  him. 

Others  became  alarmed. 

"  Ten  pounds !  'tis  more  than  I  possess  in  the 
whole  world ! " 

"  Ten  pounds  !     Mother  Mary  !  " 

Annys  rose  indignantly.  "Cowards!"  he  hissed. 
"Is  this  your  boasted  fellowship?  Is  this  the  way 
ye  succor  your  brother  ?  " 

But,  before  he  had  done,  Richard  Meryl  had 
quickly  risen,  lifted  the  fallen  man,  and  guided 
him  through  the  door.  He  knew  a  hiding-place 
where  all  such  refugees  were  welcomed  for  the 
sake  of  one  who  had  died  in  the  same  desperate 
attempt  to  win  a  decent  living. 


u8  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 


X 

THE  following  morning  Annys  sought  out 
Richard  Meryl  to  learn  more  of  the  refugee.  As 
he  was  conducted  to  the  hiding-place,  young 
Meryl  related  something  of  the  women  who  were 
risking  so  much  for  a  stranger. 

"  I  am  bringing  you  to  old  Dame  Westel  and 
her  granddaughter  Matilda,"  he  said.  "  When 
Matilda  was  but  a  babe  in  arms,  her  father, 
tempted  by  the  bait  of  large  wages  in  Suffolk, 
was  returned  by  the  sheriffs,  branded.  But  his 
wife  being  big  with  child,  and  he  watching  her 
cheeks  grow  hollow  day  by  day,  he  grew  desper 
ate  and  made  a  second  attempt.  For  this  he  was 
thrown  into  gaol  and  suffered  to  lie  there  and  rot. 
He  died  of  gangrene  of  both  feet  while  his  wife 
slowly  starved  to  death,  and  her  babe  within  her." 

"Horrible,  horrible!"  exclaimed  Annys;  "there 
is  more  justice  done  to  kine  than  to  man  made  in 
the  image  of  God.  O  my  God !  how  long  can 
this  be  endured? " 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          119 

"  Ay !  thy  cry  of  patience  burns  on  thy  tongue, 
doth  it  not  ?  " 

"  Ay,  so.     But  tell  me  some  more." 

"  You  will  see  for  yourself.  The  poor  old 
woman  lives  only  for  two  things  —  to  hide  others 
who  should  pass  through,  and  to  pore  over  a  torn 
and  dog-eared  copy  of  the  Bible  which  a  poor 
priest  did  leave  with  her." 

Annys  was  much  interested.  "  Ah,  she  will  get 
much  comfort  and  peace  from  the  Holy  Book." 

The  young  man  laughed.  "  As  to  that,  I  wot 
not ;  rather  she  does  suck  the  vengeance  and 
wrath  from  its  pages  e'en  as  a  babe  sucks  its 
mother's  milk." 

"  Say  you  so  ?  'Tis  ill,  indeed.  I  shall  change 
all  that,  and  bring  speedy  comfort  to  her." 

"  Well,  thou  hast  a  bold  heart,  then.  I  wish 
thee  joy  of  thy  task." 

"  Lives  she  all  by  herself  ?  " 

Richard  colored.  "  Nay,  her  granddaughter, 
Matilda,  is  an  angel  if  ever  one  walked  this  earth. 
She  does  devote  herself  to  the  old  woman,  and 
yet  never  is  word  of  complaint  suffered  to  pass 
her  lips." 

"  And  that  is  all  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  he  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
"no  one  counts  the  other  granddaughter,  a  sullen, 


120  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

proud  beauty,  the  illegitimate  daughter  of  the  old 
Baron  de  Leaufort,  uncle  of  the  present  one,  and 
long  since  gone  to  Hell  if  ever  sinner  went 
there." 

"  Poor  woman !  she  seems  to  have  had  trouble 
enough." 

"  Trouble  I  Ay  I  And  yet,  alas,  the  tale  is 
not  a  rare  one.  It  is  hard  to  have  faith  in  the 
goodness  of  God  when  one  sounds  all  the  misery 
on  earth." 

"  The  works  of  God  are  hidden  among  men," 
replied  Annys,  gravely,  as  they  came  to  one  of 
the  humblest  of  the  wattled  huts  that  made  up 
the  village,  and  paused  before  it. 

"  *  They  shall  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.' 
The  poor  shall  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 
Ha!  ha!" 

The  voice  came  from  within. 

Outside  on  a  low  stool,  engaged  in  her  spinning, 
sat  a  lovely  young  girl,  in  whose  sweet,  open 
countenance,  touched  with  a  gentle  gravity  be 
yond  her  years,  the  poor  priest  recognized 
Matilda  Westel. 

He  inquired  after  the  refugee  and  was  told  that 
he  was  resting,  and  that  at  daybreak  he  was  to  be 
taken  to  the  highway  and  instructed  how  to  make 
the  next  town  before  nightfall.  His  garb  had 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          121 

been  neatly  repaired,  and  a  new  staff  found  for 
him.  Annys  offered  to  give  him  a  rosary. 

"  Would  thy  grandmother  care  to  see  me  ? " 
he  asked. 

A  quick  look  passed  from  the  girl  to  Richard, 
who  stood  by  her  side. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  begged  the  young  man,  who 
seemed  to  hesitate  how  to  begin. 

"  In  what  way  can  I  serve  thee  ? "  Annys 
asked. 

"  Matilda's  grandmother,"  began  Richard,  "  can 
read  only  very  little.  She  has  picked  up  enough 
to  read  only  a  few  texts  which  that  poor  priest 
of  whom  I  spake  to  you  taught  her  by  heart.  It 
has  ever  been  her  desire  to  read  further  in  the 
Book." 

"  And  if  it  be  not  too  much  trouble,"  continued 
the  girl,  "  I  had  hoped  perhaps  that  I  might 
be  taught  also  to  read,  that  my  eyes  might  save 
grandmother's  old  and  tired  ones." 

"  Yea,  that  she  might  be  her  eyes,  as  she  has 
been  for  years  her  head  and  feet  and  hands," 
exclaimed  Richard,  heartily,  and  Annys  caught 
the  look  of  love  that  illumined  his  face  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  her.  It  heartened  the  poor  priest 
to  be  in  the  presence  of  an  affection  which  was  so 
far  removed  from  the  morbid  hysterical  emotion 


122  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

of  the  monks  and  saints,  whose  confessions  had 
always  disgusted  rather  than  edified  him. 

"Shall  we  go  in?"  ventured  Annys,  and,  re 
ceiving  the  young  girl's  permission,  he  entered 
the  low  door  and  discovered  a  wrinkled  old  dame 
seated  on  a  low  stool  poring  over  a  copy  of 
Wyclif's  Vulgate,  crooning  over  to  herself  certain 
lines  which  she  had  evidently  learned  by  heart. 

"  *  They  shall  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven/ 
The  poor  of  this  earth  shall  inherit  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven.  Is  it  not  so,  Sir  Poor  Priest?  " 

On  his  entrance,  she  had  risen,  and  almost 
shrieked  this  in  her  thin,  cracked  treble. 

"  Yea,  surely,  surely,"  answered  the  poor  priest 
soothingly,  "  the  good  Book  hath  it  so." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  eagerly,  and  searched 
it  with  her  dim  eyes. 

"  Robert  Annys,  they  tell  me  that  you  do  learn 
poor  folk  to  read  —  see,  I  wot  well  what  is  here, 
'  Give  none  occasion  to  a  man  to  curse  thee,  for 
if  he  curse  thee,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  he 
that  made  him  will  hear  his  supplication.' 

"  And  here,"  she  continued,  seating  herself  and 
bending  low  over  the  book  as  she  rapidly  turned 
the  pages  with  her  trembling  fingers,  "  here 
Solomon  saith,  '  that  no  king  had  other  begin 
ning,  but  all  men  have  one  entrance  into  life  and 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          123 

a  like  departure.'  Oh,  that  I  wot  right  well,  but 
there  is  more,  there  is  more,  that  I  would  read 
for  myself ;  there  is  a  part  which  ever  I  seek  which 
tells  that  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass  through 
the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Show  me  that,  and 
if  canst  help  me  read  the  wonderful  Book,  then 
shall  a  poor  woman's  blessing  follow  thee  all  the 
days  of  thy  life." 

Annys  regarded  her  pityingly.  "Right  gladly 
will  I  help  thee.  And  I  shall  tell  thee  of  other 
parts  of  Holy  Writ  that  speak  of  Love  and  For 
giveness,  and  teach  thee  that  part  which  saith, 
'  Love  your  enemies  and  forgive  those  that  tres 
pass  against  you.' " 

But  the  old  woman  flung  the  book  straightway 
at  his  head  in  a  passion,  crying,  "  I  will  none  of 
thy  book ;  and  it  says  that,  I  want  none  of  it.  Not 
for  that  would  I  toil  and  wear  out  mine  eyes 
reading  it.  Nay,  nay,  thou  art  wrong.  Thou 
dost  seek  to  pull  the  wool  over  mine  eyes.  For 
doth  not  the  good  Book  say :  — 

"  '  Woe  unto  you  that  are  rich.  Woe  unto  you,  ye  that  are 
full  now,  for  ye  shall  hunger.  Woe  unto  you,  ye  that  laugh  now, 
for  ye  shall  mourn  and  weep  '  ?  " 

And,    quite   exhausted  by  her  tirade,    she  sank 


i24  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

back  again  on  her  stool.  Annys  bent  over  her, 
greatly  shocked,  and  took  one  of  her  hands  in 
his  and  stroked  it  tenderly. 

"  Yet,  my  good  woman,"  he  said,  in  low,  gentle 
tones,  "  yet  is  there  not  more  comfort  in  love 
and  forgiveness,  than  in  revengeful  wrath  and 
hate  ? " 

The  old  woman  snatched  away  her  hand  and 
swayed  to  and  fro,  beating  the  floor  with  one 
foot  and  moaning  softly. 

"  Oh,  these  priests,  these  priests,"  at  last  she 
broke  out  fiercely,  "  they  wot  not  a  tenth  part  of 
our  woes,  or  they  could  not  find  it  in  their  hearts 
to  prate  ever  of  love  and  forgiveness." 

"  I  but  seek  to  bring  peace  to  thy  heart,"  remon 
strated  Annys,  "  for  peace  can  never  enter  save 
through  love.  Besides,  how  canst  thou  say  the 
Lord's  prayer?  Doth  it  not  say:  'Forgive  us 
our  sins,  as  we  forgive  them  that  have  misdone 
against  us  '  ?  " 

"  Nay  !  "  returned  the  old  woman,  stubbornly, 
"  I  do  pray  to  that  God  who  said,  '  An  eye  for  an 
eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth.' " 

He  was  about  to  touch  on  his  favorite  theme, 
the  new  spirit  of  Charity  and  Love  that  the 
Christ  had  brought  into  the  sterner  religion  of 
the  Old  Testament,  but  now  she  burst  forth  even 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          125 

more  vehemently,  rising  and  tossing  her  arms  high 
over  her  head. 

"  What  is  thy  boasted  religion  that  would  take 
from  an  old  woman  her  sole  comfort  ? 

"  '  Love  mine  enemies,'  indeed !  Does  good 
God  expect  me  to  love  that  Baron  de  Leaufort  — 
now  suffering  the  torments  of  hell-fire,  if  ever  sin 
ner  doth  —  who  made  merry  within  his  castle, 
while  my  daughter,  my  beautiful,  merry  Rose,  lay 
forgotten  on  the  moat,  brought  there  through 
him  ?  And  am  I  to  love  those  lawmakers  at 
Westminster  who  say  that  no  man  may  move 
hand  or  foot  to  seek  an  honest  living,  but  must 
stay  rooted  in  the  earth  where  he  happened  to 
grow,  like  a  rotting  trunk?  Oh,  yes,  one  may 
wander  from  Lincoln  to  London  if  it  be  but  for 
merrymaking  and  foolishness ;  but  no  man  may 
travel  to  the  next  county  if  it  be  to  place  bread 
between  the  teeth  of  his  children.  Bah!  a  fig 
care  I  for  thy  kind  of  religion  !  Begone,  begone, 
with  thy  smooth  tongue  and  thy  sleek  face, 
begone !  " 

But  Annys  did  not  go.  Sighing  heavily,  he 
said :  "  My  poor  woman,  take  such  comfort  as  is 
left  to  thee.  I  shall  come  again  to-morrow  and  I 
shall  teach  thee  such  texts  as  thou  wilt  have. 
Indeed,  I  shall  teach  also  thy  granddaughter  that 


126  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

she  may  aid  thee.  Be  comforted,  I  pray  thee," 
and,  with  a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand,  he  was 
gone. 

His  heart  was  heavy  that  night.  Was  this, 
then,  to  be  the  end  of  placing  the  Bible  in  the 
hands  of  the  people  ?  Was  their  God  to  be  a 
God  of  Vengeance  and  Wrath  instead  of  Charity 
and  Love?  Instead  of  coming  nearer  Christ 
Jesus,  were  they  to  be  further  from  Him  than 
ever? 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          127 


XI 

DURING  the  next  few  months,  Annys  made  his 
way  to  the  Bury  whenever  he  could.  No  sacri 
fice  was  too  great  if  it  could  give  him  a  few  hours 
with  his  new-found  friends,  Richard  and  Matilda. 
To  him  there  was  quite  a  new  sense  of  belonging 
to  some  one  place,  of  having  a  home  where  his 
friends  awaited  him.  He  had  led  a  lonely  life. 
At  Oxford  he  had  been  a  close  student  and  had 
never  joined  in  the  riotous  gatherings  and  bouts 
of  the  students  ;  his  master  he  had  adored,  but  no 
man  had  he  called  friend.  Later,  during  his 
wandering  life  as  poor  priest,  many  a  heartfelt 
blessing  had  been  poured  upon  him  and  many  a 
sombre  face  brightened  at  the  sight  of  him,  but 
he  had  had  no  real  comrade. 

Richard  Meryl  had  been  as  strongly  drawn  to 
Annys  as  the  poor  priest  to  him,  and,  under  his 
influence,  gradually  the  Uprising  appealed  to 
Meryl  as  far  more  than  a  longing  for  a  full  stom 
ach.  Before  Annys  had  come,  he  had  been  one 
of  the  unruly  ones,  anxious  to  storm  castles  and 


128  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR  PRIEST 

manors  if  need  be  to  better  their  horrible  condi 
tion.  But  now  he  worked  ardently  with  the  poor 
priest  to  instil  into  the  people  a  noble  patience, 
an  idealism  that  would  enable  them  to  hold  for 
ever  whatever  success  they  would  gain. 

The  men  did  not  take  Meryl's  change  of  heart 
very  kindly.  He,  one  of  the  most  eager,  now  to 
be  holding  them  back  ! 

"  Every  yonker  hath  become  a  seer,"  sneered 
one  of  the  older  men,  as  Meryl  was  admonishing 
them  in  the  poor  priest's  absence. 

The  blood  rose  swiftly  to  the  young  man's 
cheeks. 

"  One  is  never  too  young  to  learn.  It  seems 
that  one  may  be  too  old,"  he  said  angrily. 

u  Bah !  a  fig  for  thy  dreaming  poor  priest.  Give 
us  a  torch,  say  I,  and  march  upon  all  the  castles 
and  abbeys  in  the  land  —  the  sooner  the  better. 
The  more  we  delay  the  more  the  Barons  will  laugh 
and  call  us  but  idle  boasters." 

"  Ay,"  retorted  Meryl,  "  go  thou  and  a  handful 
of  others.  For  a  while  ye  will  think  yourselves 
the  masters  of  the  earth.  Yet  it  will  be  as  a  drop 
in  the  bucket  compared  to  what  shall  be  gained 
if  ye  bide  in  patience  till  the  men  of  every  county 
be  ready  to  rise.  Then  all  the  nobles  of  the  land 
cannot  withstand  us." 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          129 

"  There  is  something  in  his  counsellings,  after 
all,"  murmured  the  old  man.  "  Yet  it  is  bitter 
biding  the  time,  and  patience  and  an  eager  belly 
go  ill  together." 

Meanwhile  Robert  Annys  led  a  busy  life,  mak 
ing  frequent  trips  to  the  neighboring  towns  and 
hamlets,  and  preaching  before  great  gatherings. 
The  excommunication  bore  little  fruit.  Even 
Annys  was  astonished  to  find  how  few  men 
cared.  For  there  were  many  reasons  why  men 
still  continued  to  hold  fellowship  with  him.  First, 
they  needed  him,  they  found  that  he  brought 
them  what  they  craved.  Also,  at  no  time  had 
the  Papacy  been  held  in  such  scant  reverence. 
How  could  the  spectacle  of  two  rival,  quarrelling 
Popes  struggling  and  wrangling  over  the  chair  of 
Peter  as  two  dogs  snarling  over  a  bone,  fail  to 
hold  up  the  sacred  office  to  ridicule  ?  Moreover, 
little  by  little  the  figure  of  the  Pope,  albeit  that 
he  wore  upon  his  head  a  mitre  whose  three 
jewelled  crowns  cost  over  five  hundred  thousand 
pieces  of  gold,  was  waning  in  majesty  and  power 
before  that  simple  figure  of  a  man  upon  whose 
forehead  rested  only  a  crown  of  thorns.  At  a 
different  period,  earlier  or  later,  Annys  would 
have  found  himself  in  terrible  isolation ;  men 
would  have  shrunk  from  the  slightest  contact 


130  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

with  him,  and  he  would  have  suffered  keenly, 
even  for  the  ordinary  necessities  of  life.  But  now 
so  little  heed  was  paid  to  his  excommunication, 
that  a  second  Papal  Bull  was  launched  forth, 
anathematizing  even  such  as  should  listen  to  the 
heretical  and  incendiary  preaching  of  this  poor 
priest,  Robert  Annys. 

And  still  the  rustics  continued  to  gather  about 
him  whenever  he  appeared,  in  the  fields,  or  at 
the  cross-roads,  or  at  the  very  thresholds  of  the 
Church  that  banished  him.  Men  sent  for  him  to 
speak  with  them  when  they  were  disheartened ; 
they  sent  for  him  when  they  wished  for  tidings 
of  the  Great  Uprising;  they  sent  for  him  to  shrive 
their  souls  when  they  faced  the  awful  journey 
through  eternity,  forgetting  that  it  was  denied 
him  to  perform  the  offices  of  Holy  Church,  re 
membering  only  the  strong  grip  of  his  hand  and 
the  love-light  in  his  eyes  that  somehow  seemed 
to  make  the  great  journey  less  terrible.  Dimly 
struggling  through  the  hierarchical,  conventional 
conception  of  the  priestly  office,  was  coming 
the  recognition  of  the  priest  as  just  a  human 
brother  with  the  sorrows  and  temptations  of  all 
men,  and  just  a  little  more  spirituality  and  help 
fulness  than  is  given  to  all. 

Once,  when  Annys  returned  from  a  long  jour- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          131 

ney,  he  was  more  exhausted  than  usual.  Ma 
tilda  was  frankly  frightened.  Indeed,  Richard  had 
of  late  questioned  in  his  heart  if  her  interest  in 
the  poor  priest  were  not  growing  more  intense 
than  mere  friendship  would  warrant.  He  had 
watched  them  together  over  their  Bible  with  a 
terrible  foreboding  in  his  heart.  He  had  noted, 
also,  the  swift  illumination  of  her  face  whenever 
Annys  returned  to  them.  He  was  not  really 
betrothed  to  Matilda,  and  yet  since  he  had  first 
known  her  as  a  little  girl  he  had  never  thought 
of  marrying  another  woman.  Their  friendship 
had  been  constant  and  devoted,  but  as  yet  no 
words  of  love  had  been  spoken  on  either  side. 

"  Thou  dost  look  worn  and  weary,"  exclaimed 
Matilda,  tenderly,  as  she  laid  out  for  Annys  such 
simple  refreshment  as  she  could  offer.  "  It  is 
more  than  human  strength  can  bear,  such  work 
as  thine.  Take  a  rest  now  with  us,"  she  added 
solicitously. 

Annys  looked  into  her  kind  eyes  and  smiled. 
He  passed  one  thin  hand  wearily  over  his  brow. 
Ah,  if  it  were  only  the  body  that  was  weary. 
He  raised  some  food  mechanically  to  his  lips. 

Matilda  wondered  if  he  was  conscious  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  eating.  There  was  a  hunted 
look  in  his  eyes  as  he  exclaimed  suddenly :  — 


i32  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  God  wot,  what  strange  hocus-pocus  planted  me 
in  Ball's  shoes.  The  devil  himself  could  not  have 
made  a  stranger  misfit." 

"  How  canst  say  so  ?  "  exclaimed  Meryl,  indig 
nantly.  "  Have  I  not  heard  it  said  that  not  even 
John  Ball  himself  can  sway  men  to  his  will  as 
Robert  Annys  can  ?  Do  not  men  wait  for  thy 
coming  from  Norfolk  to  Sussex  ?  " 

"  Ay !  well  enough  can  I  sway  them  to  my  will 
when  it  does  not  go  contrary  to  theirs,"  he  mur 
mured.  And  then  he  smiled  to  think  that  he 
should  be  trying  to  explain  to  these  simple 
friends  all  the  intricate  workings  of  his  heart. 
And  yet  there  was  something  soothing  in  their 
ready  sympathy,  there  was  something  calming  in 
voicing  his  innermost  dread,  so  that  he  continued 
more  in  soliloquy  than  conversation. 

"  Ah !  it  is  not  that  I  do  not  have  great  power 
over  the  men ;  rather  is  it  that  I  have  so  much 
power,  and  fear  to  use  it  ill.  'Twould  be  easier 
far  to  fail  than  to  succeed  with  a  question  ever 
eating  into  one's  vitals.  It  is  a  curse  for  a  leader 
of  men  to  be  possessed  of  imagination.  It  is  to 
see  the  furthermost  end  to  which  our  own  words 
and  deeds  take  us.  No  sage  could  endure  to  see 
the  effect  of  his  own  teachings.  Either  his  heart 
would  break  or  his  reason  be  unseated.  What 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         133 

would  have  been  the  agony  of  St.  Francis  could 
he  have  looked  into  the  future  and  seen  the 
powerful  Franciscan  monasteries  actually  con 
demned  for  their  great  properties.  Could  Christ 
have  seen  the  Church  of  His  disciples  straying  far 
ther  from  His  teachings  than  ever  had  the  Church 
of  the  Jews,  then  well  might  He  have  cried, — 

"  *  Eli,  Eli,  lama  Sabachthani  ? '  '  My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? " 

Matilda  had  sunk  to  the  floor  during  this  im 
passioned  speech,  and  looked  up  into  the  poor 
priest's  noble,  sensitive  face  with  a  rapt  gaze  in 
which  Meryl  read  the  confirmation  of  his  suspi 
cions.  His  own  face  grew  sombre  and  gloomy 
as  Annys  continued. 

"Ah,  such  agonies,  my  friends,  have  I  endured, 
passing  among  men  and  trying  to  plant  the  seed 
of  good-fellowship  among  them,  and  seeing  but 
the  weeds  of  envy  and  hatred  spring  up  in  their 
stead ;  trying  to  awaken  in  their  hearts  pity  for 
the  sufferings  of  their  brethren,  and  stirring  up 
only  vengeance  against  the  rich.  What  have  I 
not  suffered  in  trying  to  arouse  self-sacrifice  and 
self-control  and  a  steadfastness  to  noble  ideals, 
and  finding  only  bitterness  of  spirit  and  rapa- 
ciousness  and  self-seeking !  " 

He  pushed  his  low  stool  away  from  the  table, 


i34  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR    PRIEST 

and  paced  about  the  room  rapidly,  sometimes  his 
hands  striking  one  another  in  fierce  energy,  and 
again  at  times  stretched  out  appealingly  to 
heaven,  while  his  auditors  sat  in  silence,  full  of 
their  own  thoughts.  "  Oh,  how  I  have  poured 
forth  love  and  sympathy  upon  you,  my  brethren ! 
How  have  I  dreamed,  awake  and  asleep,  of  the 
Great  Uprising !  How  have  I  pictured  the 
orderly,  majestic  march  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  men,  the  wonderful  gathering  together  of  men 
from  all  parts  of  the  realm,  the  coming  before  the 
King  with  their  just  grievances,  ever  orderly  and 
self-respecting,  and  upheld  by  the  consciousness 
of  right-doing.  And  then  how  I  have  wept  tears 
of  joy  to  think  that  the  King  could  not  but  give 
heed,  and  that  he  would  make  of  them  all  free 
men,  free,  no  longer  serfs  and  villeins,  but  free 
as  good  God  created  them. 

"And  what  do  I  see?"  he  cried  wildly,  as  he 
cast  himself  down  on  a  settle  and  bowed  his  face 
in  his  hands.  "  What  do  I  see  ?  I  see  England 
swept  from  north  to  south,  from  Lincoln  to 
Kent,  by  the  flames  of  infuriated  incendiaries. 
I  see  castles  sacked,  abbeys  ruined.  I  see  the 
people,  my  people,  God's  people,  drunk  with 
power,  blind  with  rage,  going  madly  into  the 
trap  the  nobles  have  set  for  them.  My  eyes  are 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         135 

blinded  night  and  day  by  the  glare  of  the  con 
flagration,  my  ears  are  deafened  by  the  shrieks 
of  the  victims,  there  is  blood  upon  everything. 
There  is  blood  upon  this  settle,  there  is  blood 
upon  this  table,  there  is  blood  upon  this  goblet. 
Sometimes  I  fear  that  I  shall  go  mad.  I  see 
decapitated  heads  on  the  gates  of  the  town,  they 
glare  at  me  and  make  grimaces  at  me,  and  cry 
out,  *  This  is  thy  work,  thine,  O  minister  of  Hell!' 
Fatherless  babes  and  widowed  mothers  curse  me 
and  cry  out  against  me.  O  my  God,  they  say 
'  This  is  all  thy  work  — •  thine  ! ' :  For  an  instant 
he  sat  brooding  over  his  thoughts  in  silence. 

Then  with  a  sudden,  swift  transformation  which 
was  characteristic  of  the  man,  his  mood  changed, 
and,  springing  up,  he  threw  one  arm  affectionately 
about  Meryl  and  smiled  brightly. 

"  Yet  with  such  friends  about  me,  how  can  I 
fail  ?  " 

To  his  surprise,  Meryl  flung  away  his  arm  with 
a  passionate  movement  and  started  back. 

The  poor  priest's  sensitive  face  quivered. 

''What  have  I  done?  Richard,  what  is  it?" 
he  cried. 

"  Nay,  nay,  'tis  nothing,  believe  me,"  Meryl  ex 
claimed,  abashed  instantly  at  his  action.  "  I  was 
but  startled  and  wist  not  what  I  did.  Forgive  me !  " 


136  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

But,  when  Annys  was  gone,  Matilda  had  not 
forgiven  him. 

"  To  act  so  rudely  to  our  Robert  Annys ! "  she 
cried  reproachfully. 

The  young  man  did  not  reply  at  once,  but 
stood  with  dogged  sullenness  regarding  her 
fixedly. 

"  Why,  what  has  come  over  thee,  Richard  ?  I 
do  not  know  thee." 

"You  love  him,"   he   blurted  out,    awkwardly. 

The  blood  rushed  to  the  girl's  face,  even  red 
dening  her  ears.  For  an  instant  she  looked  at 
him  speechless,  her  breast  heaving  tumultuously 
and  great  tear-drops  running  down  her  cheeks. 
He  was  frightened  at  the  effect  of  his  brutal 
words. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  stammered.  "  I  meant  not 
to  hurt  thee,  but,  Matilda,  dear  heart,  there  has 
never  been  other  maid  in  the  world  for  me." 

"Oh,  Richard,  Richard,"  she  sobbed,  "he  is  a 
priest,  a  priest  of  God,  and  thou  canst  speak  to 
me  like  this!" 

"So,  then,  you  wot  not  that  the  poor  priests 
do  marry." 

At  this  she  started  violently,  and  all  the  color 
sped  quickly  from  her  cheeks. 

"  How — a  priest  wed  ! " 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          137 

"  Ay  !  "  he  said  bitterly,  seeing  how  it  was  with 
her.  "  Ay,  John  Ball  hath  preached  for  many  a 
day  that  all  priests  should  be  as  other  men,  even 
to  the  taking  of  a  wife." 

"  Oh,  Richard,  I  wist  not,  I  wist  not.  I  thought 
a  priest  was  above  other  men  —  I  never  thought 
of  him  as  —  as  —  "  and  she  turned  from  him  and 
flung  her  face  in  her  arms  on  the  table.  And 
there  he  left  her,  for  he  had  not  that  within  him 
to  comfort  her,  seeing  that  his  own  heart  was 
broken. 


138  ROBERT  ANN YS:    POOR   PRIEST 


XII 

WITH  his  friends,  Richard  and  Matilda,  Annys 
continued  the  same  frank  intercourse,  entirely 
ignorant  of  what  had  taken  place  between  them. 

Yet  there  were  others  besides  Richard  Meryl 
who  had  eyes  to  read  Matilda's  secret.  Some  there 
were  that  thought  it  a  pity  to  see  the  unselfish 
devotion  of  a  lifetime  go  so  ill  rewarded.  For  it 
was  a  question  how  the  Westels  could  have  lived 
had  it  not  been  that  young  Meryl  had  worked 
their  tiny  tenure  of  land,  and  rendered  service  in 
their  stead,  giving  his  lord  two  days'  ploughing  for 
himself  and  two  for  them,  and  in  the  same  way 
doubling  his  days  of  sowing  and  reaping,  digging 
and  carting,  that  the  women  might  keep  their 
modest  holding.  In  this  Matilda  had  given  him 
such  help  as  had  been  in  her  power;  nevertheless 
to  her  and  hers  he  had  been  father,  son,  brother, 
lover,  and  day  laborer,  all  in  one.  Others  there 
were  that,  holding  Matilda  to  be  the  ideal  poor 
priest's  wife,  saw  in  it  the  hand  of  God. 

Among  those  that  read  Matilda's  heart  was 
her  cousin,  Rose  Westel,  she  whose  mother  had 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          139 

thrown  herself  in  her  despair  into  the  moat  of  Ely 
Castle.  She  had  never  encountered  the  poor 
priest.  She  was  not  fond  of  long,  sanctimonious 
faces.  It  was  just  like  Matilda,  she  thought,  to  fall 
in  love  with  a  russet  cloth  saint. 

As  Rose  was  about  to  start  off  one  afternoon  to 
her  favorite  haunt  in  the  woods,  where  she  could 
indulge  in  her  day-dreams  and  for  a  brief  space  at 
least  forget  a  reality  that  she  hated,  her  grand 
mother  stopped  her. 

"  Why  dost  not  stay  at  home  and  read  the 
Scriptures  with  us  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  girl  turned  and  laughed  merrily.  "  Oh, 
grandmother,  for  shame!  Hast  not  said  again 
and  again  that  I  am  selfish  and  tread  ever  upon 
the  feelings  of  others  ?  And  wouldst  now  have 
me  interfere  with  Matilda  and  her  devoted  priest? 
Nay,  then,  'twould  be  too  cruel  to  come  between 
them  when  they  make  such  beautiful  love  over 
their  *  Thus  saith  the  Lords,'  and  their  '  Holy, 
Holy,  Holies.'" 

Matilda  sprang  up  with  cheeks  all  aflame  and 
fled  into  the  house,  vowing  that  she  would  never 
forgive  her,  never,  never.  But  the  old  dame  only 
chuckled  slyly,  in  a  manner  that  took  away  all 
the  sting  from  the  harsh  words  that  she  flung 
after  Rose. 


140  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Get  thee  gone,  thou  hussy !  Get  thee  gone  ! 
Thou  art  fit  only  for  saucy  flings  and  idle  noon 
ings.  Get  thee  gone  before  thy  cousin's  head  is 
filled  with  the  nonsense  that  is  in  thine  empty 
pate!" 

And  when  the  girl  had  gone,  she  kept  mum 
bling  to  herself  with  twinkling  eyes,  "  The  hussy  ! 
To  take  a  priest  and  maid  at  Holy  Scriptures  and 
call  it  love-making !  " 

During  the  lesson  that  followed,  Matilda  for  the 
first  time  was  a  dull  pupil.  Her  grandmother, 
for  a  wonder,  did  not  chide  her  for  being  so 
careless.  Her  sharp  eyes  had  read  the  cause  of 
the  girl's  confusion. 

"Art  tired,  dear  Matilda?  "asked  Annys  kindly, 
seeing  her  hesitate  over  a  simple  word.  "  Thou 
art  not  thy  usual  quick  self  to-day." 

For  answer  the  girl  burst  into  tears  and  sped 
quickly  away. 

"  Heed  not  the  lass,"  began  the  old  woman, 
"  she  is  not  herself  to-day.  It  seems  that  she  and 
Richard  have  had  a  falling  out,  for  after  all  these 
years  that  he  has  wooed  her,  she  will  have  none 
of  him.  Yet  he  is  a  likely-looking  chap,  too, 
and  I  have  scraped  and  pinched  and  at  last  laid 
by  enough  to  pay  the  fine." 

"  What !  Matilda  not  wed  Richard  !  "  exclaimed 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          141 

Annys,  astounded.  "  It's  impossible  !  Sure,  'tis 
but  some  lover's  quarrel  that  soon  will  be  made 
up.  Or  else,"  he  suggested,  "belike  she  cares  not 
to  leave  her  grandmother." 

Now  who  can  tell  what  arouses  the  humors  of 
old  folk  ?  Surely  a  smooth  enough  word,  and 
kindly  enough  meant,  yet  the  old  woman  sprang 
up  with  a  red  spot  on  either  cheek,  and  cried 
harshly,  "  Hoity-toity,  hoity-toity,  Sir  Poor  Priest, 
indeed,  indeed !  And  what  should  such  a  fine 
wench  do  but  marry,  quotha!  Nay,  nay,  let 
not  such  foolish  maggots  get  into  the  child's 
head." 

Annys  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  that 
Matilda  had  refused  to  wed  Richard  Meryl.  The 
two  friends  were  as  good  as  married  in  his  eyes, 
for  he  could  not  think  of  one  without  the  other. 
Surely  some  foolish  lovers'  quarrel  must  be  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  So  he  took  leave  of  the  old  woman 
and  sought  out  Richard,  bent  upon  being  a  peace 
maker,  and  bringing  the  two  together  again. 

He  found  his  friend  in  the  fields,  up  to  his 
knees  in  a  trench  which  he  was  digging.  Richard 
laughed. 

"  How  came  you  to  think  we  were  lovers  ?  "  he 
asked.  He  spoke  carelessly,  but  the  veins  over 
his  forehead  stood  out  like  whip-cords  and  his 


i42  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

great  fists  circled  the  spade  handle  so  that  the 
knuckles  shone  like  polished  wood. 

"  Dost  mean  to  tell  me  thou  hast  no  idea  of 
wedding  Matilda  Westel  ? "  asked  Annys,  in 
astonishment. 

Richard  shrugged  his  huge  shoulders.  "  Nay, 
there  is  a  clear  field  for  thee,  hast  thou  the  mind 
to." 

"  Why,  man,  no  sweeter  woman  draws  breath." 

The  other  drew  a  long  breath  between  his 
clenched  teeth. 

"  So  says  every  swain  of  his  sweetheart." 

The  words  were  indifferent,  but  the  thick  han 
dle  of  the  spade  snapped  in  two. 

Annys  looked  at  it  in  surprise. 

"  'Twas  cracked  yestere'en,"  stammered  Meryl, 
hastily  looking  down  on  it  in  some  confusion. 

For  an  instant  the  two  men  looked  steadily 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  I  wot  not  how  it  is  with  thee,"  at  last  began 
Annys,  gravely.  "  I  had  given  my  life  that  thou 
didst  love  the  maid.  I  never  looked  on  her  sweet, 
gentle  face  that  I  did  not  see  it  in  fancy  bending 
over  thy  child's  cradle.  She  was  so  wholly  thine 
to  me,  that  until  this  very  day  I  wist  not  how 
dear  she  was  to  me." 

His  friend   grasped   his  hand.      "Ay,  Robert 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         143 

Annys,  I  cannot  deceive  thee.  I  had  thought 
rather  to  see  any  other  man  dead  than  that  he 
should  possess  her.  Yet  she  loves  thee,  and  the 
power  to  make  her  happy  hath  passed  from  me  to 
thee.  Only,"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of  sternness 
in  his  face,  "  only  see  that  thou  dost  make  her 
happy." 

"  Happy !  "  he  said,  "  she  will  be  happy  if  indeed 
it  is  as  thou  sayst  and  I  can  make  her  so.  But  I 
am  bewildered.  I  cannot  understand  it  that  she 
should  love  me,  and  with  thee  before  her.  Thou 
art  better  favored  than  I,  thou  art  younger  and 
stronger.  It  cannot  be ;  nay,  there  is  some  mis 
take." 

"  I  tell  thee  there  is  no  mistake.  She  loves 
thee." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  so  ?  " 

"  Yea,  that  she  did." 

Then  a  hundred  little  scenes  rushed  back  to 
him,  her  eyes  fastened  on  his  face,  her  interest  in 
his  work,  her  eager  greeting  on  his  return,  all 
lived  again  for  him  for  a  brief  moment.  And 
now  he  knew. 

"  I  am  still  dazed,"  he  said.  "  I  can  scarce  credit 
it,  but  I  think  it  is  true." 

Then  the  thought  of  his  friend's  grief  came  to 
him. 


144  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Ah,  would  that  this  had  not  come  to  thee, 
Richard,  my  lad.  Would  I  could  undo  what  I 
have  wrought,  even  that  I  had  never  seen  thee 
both." 

"  Nay,  nay,  say  not  that ! "  broke  out  Meryl, 
with  strong  pain  in  his  voice.  "  Nay,  it  is  worth 
all  to  have  called  thee  friend.  Sure  there  is  a  tie 
between  man  and  man  that  may  be  stronger  than 
that  between  man  and  maid." 

"  Ah  well,"  sighed  Annys,  laying  one  hand  ten 
derly  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  "  mayhap  'tis 
the  Cross  thou  must  bear  for  Christ's  sake.  For 
surely  with  such  a  woman  by  my  side,  it  will  be 
given  me  to  prove  that  a  wedded  priest  need  not 
be  taken  up  with  worldly  matters  and  thoughts 
of  the  flesh.  Indeed,  I  shall  be  perfected  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord.  With  her  help  I  shall  be  a 
more  useful  servant  to  my  people,  a  kindlier  com 
forter  and  a  wiser  adviser.  Indeed,  I  promise 
thee  that  she  will  be  to  me  as  a  direct  gift  from 
God." 


A  TALE   OF  THE  GREAT  UPRISING         145 


XIII 

JUST  at  this  time  Rose  Westel  met  with  an 
adventure.  She  was  paying  a  long-promised 
visit  to  some  distant  relatives  at  Ely.  It  was  a 
great  event  in  her  life,  for  it  was  the  first  time  she 
had  left  her  home.  Any  change  from  the  dull 
routine  at  the  Bury  was  welcome,  and  yet,  after 
the  first  excitement  died  down,  she  found  herself 
unhappier  than  ever.  The  sight  of  Ely  Castle 
proudly  rearing  its  towers  over  the  lowlands  awak 
ened  in  her  a  bitter  discontent.  The  great  grim 
pile  stirred  curious  passions  within  her  breast; 
there  were  times  when  she  looked  on  it  with  an 
icy  dread  at  her  heart,  for  behind  those  curving 
walls  rippled  the  waters  of  the  moat — her  mother's 
deathbed ;  there  were  moments  when  she  looked 
on  it  with  a  secret  pride  that  she  should  be 
descended  from  one  of  its  haughty  rulers.  Then 
she  would  give  way  to  frantic  rage  that  she  should 
not  be  there  presiding  as  its  mistress.  It  was 
common  talk  that  the  present  Baron  was  only  the 
illegitimate  son  of  her  father's  brother.  Why, 


146  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

then,  had  he  been  chosen  instead  of  her,  who 
stood  nearer  in  the  succession  ? 

No  one  suspected  her  of  these  outbursts,  for  she 
indulged  in  them  only  where  she  was  unobserved. 
This  habit  had  grown  on  her  since  she  was  a  little 
tot,  and  her  pricle  had  kept  her  from  showing  how 
keenly  she  felt  the  shrugs  and  significant  glances 
of  the  former  companions  of  her  mother.  Their 
prophecies  concerning  her  future  were  obvious, 
her  own  idleness  and  wilfulness  being  thrown  into 
high  relief  by  the  contrasting  industry  and  self- 
sacrifice  of  her  cousin  Matilda.  There  had  been 
times  when  she  had  tried  her  best  to  hate  Matilda, 
who  was  always  being  held  up  to  her  as  a  model, 
but  Matilda's  own  love  and  admiration  for  her 
made  it  impossible. 

So  for  many  years  she  had  alternated  between 
tempestuous  fits  of  determination  to  fulfil  the 
kind  prophecies  of  her  mother's  generation  —  to 
be  out  and  out  wicked  and  have  done  with  it  — 
and  sullen  resolutions  to  take  the  veil  and  enter 
the  neighboring  convent.  The  grewsome  picture 
of  her  mother's  waterlogged  body  floating  on  the 
moat  had  kept  her  from  the  one,  a  certain  leer 
on  the  Father  Confessor's  face  had  kept  her  from 
the  other.  She  never  explained  to  any  one  why 
she  had  left  off  going  to  confession,  for  what 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          147 

would  have  been  the  use  ?  They  would  have 
said  that  she  had  inherited  her  mother's  wicked 
ness,  so  that  even  saints  were  tempted  by  her. 
She  would  never  be  judged  as  other  maids. 

Again  and  again  she  asked  herself  why  had 
her  mother  sinned  ?  It  was  her  refusal  to  wed 
either  of  the  two  fellows  whom  her  overlord  had 
chosen  for  her  that  brought  her  to  the  Baron's 
notice.  On  seeing  her  he  ceased  to  insist  upon 
that  special  prerogative.  What  right  had  her 
mother  to  shrink  from  the  churls  that  had  been 
allotted  to  her?  Her  sin  was  so  unnecessary 
that  Rose  looked  on  it  with  bitter  impatience. 
The  thick-flowing  blood  of  the  rustics  had  been 
in  her  veins ;  she  should  have  been  well  con 
tent  to  wed  some  great  bullock  of  a  fellow  and 
bear  him  countless  stolid,  flaxen-haired  children. 
What  right  had  she  to  bring  into  the  world  a 
being  with  every  taste  different  from  those  about 
her,  with  every  nerve  tingling  with  revolt?  True, 
Rose  herself  felt  that  she  would  knife  a  man 
before  she  would  mate  with  one  of  those  great 
hulks  of  men  who  were  little  above  the  oxen  they 
drove  or  the  sheep  they  tended.  But  she  had 
the  right  to  shudder;  gentle  blood  flowed  in  her 
veins  just  as  truly  as  it  did  in  the  proud  Baron 
yonder.  Just  as  much  as  he,  she  had  a  right  to 


148  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

feel  her  heart  leap  within  her  at  the  sight  of  lux 
ury  and  daintiness  and  beauty.  How  her  hands 
longed  to  feel  the  touch  of  soft  furs  and  velvets 
and  rich  stuffs !  Oh,  again  and  again  she  wished 
that  her  mother  had  flung  her  babe  also  on  the 
moat. 

As  she  was  sitting  alone  one  day  underneath 
the  trees,  near  the  highway,  she  was  startled  by 
the  approach  of  a  gay  cavalcade  bringing  color 
and  life  and  laughter  into  the  gloomy  woods. 
First  rode  the  Baron,  usually  a  superb  figure  on 
his  magnificent  coal-black  horse,  but  now  a  most 
ridiculous  figure  with  his  clothes  put  on  wrong 
side  forward,  his  hat  tilted  over  his  nose,  and  long 
streamers  of  different  colored  ribands  hanging 
from  his  beard,  down  his  breast,  and  along  his 
legs,  where  also  hung  numerous  tiny  bells  tin 
kling  with  every  motion.  His  horse  was  deco 
rated  as  fantastically  as  its  master,  and  behind  him 
followed  two  score  of  lusty  fellows  decked  out  in 
motley  liveries  of  green  and  yellow  and  covered 
with  scarves  and  ribands  and  laces  hung  all  over 
with  gold.  From  each  of  these  jangled  and 
dangled  countless  silvern  bells,  heightening  the 
din  made  by  the  pipers  and  drummers  that  fol 
lowed,  playing  weird  discords  like  a  devil's  dance. 
A  number  of  ladies  with  their  gallants,  all  masked 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         149 

and  gayly  costumed,  now  rode  up,  all  shrieking 
with  laughter. 

As  the  Baron  caught  sight  of  Rose  standing 
near  the  road,  gazing  at  the  unwonted  sight  in 
open  bewilderment,  there  swept  into  his  eyes  that 
look  with  which  all  men  greeted  her  beauty.  He 
whispered  a  command  to  one  of  his  lackeys,  who 
instantly  seized  the  girl  and  conducted  her  to  the 
Baron,  who  gazed  down  on  her  amazed  —  for  how 
could  it  be  that  he  had  overlooked  such  a  rare 
beauty  in  his  vicinity?  For  the  moment  he  re 
gretted  the  escapade  that  made  him  cut  so  ridicu 
lous  a  figure  in  her  eyes. 

"  Thou  must  proclaim  thyself  a  follower  of  my 
Lord  of  Misrule,"  he  said,  smiling  down  at  her 
and  lifting  up  her  chin  with  one  gauntleted  hand. 
She  did  not  reply,  but  gazed  on  the  ground  in 
embarrassment,  the  color  going  and  coming  in 
her  cheeks. 

"  Look,  girl,"  spoke  up  one  of  the  Baron's  com 
panions,  "  none  may  encounter  us  save  they  wear 
my  Lord's  badge,"  and  with  a  leer,  he  attempted 
to  fasten  a  knot  of  ribands  on  the  girl's  kerchief. 
She  made  a  quick  gesture  of  impatience  and 
stepped  back  angrily,  but  at  a  low  word  from  the 
Baron  she  paused,  and  turned  her  exquisite  pro 
file  toward  him. 


150  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Wilt  refuse  my  badge  ?  "  he  asked  softly.  She 
turned  her  face  to  him  and  curtsied,  answering 
readily :  — 

"  I  need  not  that  to  make  me  a  humble  servant 
of  your  Lordship  ;  "  but  her  lips  trembled  and  the 
blood  was  pumping  noisily  about  her  ears,  and 
she  found  she  could  speak  only  in  a  strained 
whisper. 

Some  of  the  ladies  clapped  their  hands  at  her 
readiness,  and  the  Baron,  with  a  light  laugh,  sprang 
from  his  horse  and  pinned  on  the  badge,  taking 
as  long  to  do  so  as  he  possibly  could,  while  the 
others  looked  on  in  amusement  and  made  audi 
ble  comments,  even  the  ladies  chuckling  over  the 
coarse  badinage  that  was  bandied  about. 

"  Two  groats  for  the  badge,  girl,"  cried  one 
saucy  fellow  as  the  Baron  at  last  reluctantly  took 
his  hands  from  the  girl,  and  stood  off  in  mock 
admiration  of  his  own  handiwork,  "  two  groats  !  " 

"  I  have  no  money,"  exclaimed  Rose,  sullenly. 
The  interruption  had  jarred  upon  her.  For  a 
brief  space  she  had  fancied  herself  and  the  Baron 
alone  in  the  world.  De  Leaufort  turned  angrily 
upon  the  fellow.  "  Who  speaks  of  payment  to  a 
comely  maid,"  he  demanded. 

"  Ay,  by  St.  Clara,  a  beauty  like  her  needs  no 
groat  in  her  pocket,  for  she  carries  payment  ever 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING          151 

in  her  face,"  spoke  up  another  fellow,  who  had 
been  watching  the  scene  with  considerable  amuse 
ment.  "  I  see  the  end  of  poor  Lillian's  reign,"  he 
muttered  in  his  beard. 

The  Baron  threw  an  arm  about  Rose's  waist, 
and,  drawing  her  to  him,  pressed  a  quick  hot  kiss 
on  her  lips.  "  I  am  richly  paid,"  he  cried,  as  she 
sprang  from  him  and  bounded  off  through  the 
woods. 

"  Richly  indeed !  "  echoed  a  couple  of  envious 
ones. 

"  And  doubtless  the  treasury  is  not  yet  ex 
hausted,"  laughed  one  who  knew  the  Baron  was 
not  one  to  let  such  a  beauty  lightly  slip  through 
his  ringers. 

For  an  instant  de  Leaufort  looked  ruefully 
after  the  girl.  She  had  not  seemed  to  him  a  girl 
that  would  resent  a  kiss.  At  a  whisper  from  a 
companion,  however,  he  smiled,  nodded  his  head, 
sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  a  moment  later 
nothing  but  a  cloud  of  dust  rose  where  the  gay 
cavalcade  had  rested.  On  they  proceeded  with  a 
great  din  and  racket,  bringing  out  from  every 
door  they  passed  heads  that  shook  with  disap 
proval  over  the  light-hearted  gayety  of  the  rich 
folks,  and  their  careless  misusing  of  fineries  and 
good  clothes,  while  the  poor  had  to  groan  and 


152  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

sweat   even  for   such    poor   rags    as  they  could 
find  to  cover  their  nakedness. 

With  the  queer  contradictions  of  maidenhood, 
which  yearns  and  spurns  all  of  a  breath,  Rose  fled 
to  her  friends  only  to  announce  her  sudden  deter 
mination  to  return  to  the  Bury  the  very  next  day. 
To  all  their  pleas  to  persuade  her  to  remain,  she 
was  obdurate,  although  a  voice  deep  down  within 
her  pleaded  their  cause  with  even  far  greater  elo 
quence  than  they  could  command.  Indeed,  no 
one  could  have  been  more  surprised  than  herself 
at  the  sudden  resolution.  She  had  passed  hours 
before  the  castle  picturing  all  sorts  of  wild,  impos 
sible  situations  with  herself  as  the  heroine  and  the 
Baron  as  the  hero,  and  yet,  now  that  something 
had  really  happened,  she  ran  away.  There  was 
a  certain  look  in  the  Baron's  eyes  as  his  beard 
had  swept  across  her  cheek  that  told  her  with 
unfailing  instinct  that  he  would  not  lightly  let  her 
go  from  him.  An  exultant  subconsciousness 
told  her  that,  until  he  found  her,  there  would  be 
no  woman  in  the  world  for  him.  And  yet  she 
was  fleeing  from  him  even  as  the  startled  stag  at 
the  scent  of  danger  throws  back  its  antlers  and 
leaps  through  the  forest.  She  questioned  her 
own  decision  as  impatiently  as  did  her  friends. 
She  did  not  quite  understand  herself.  Was  there 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         153 

deep  down  a  desire  to  show  her  power,  to  heighten 
her  charm,  by  giving  him  a  little  trouble  in  find 
ing  her?  She  could  not  say.  She  was  not  sure 
that  she  was  not  playing  with  her  conscience  and 
making  a  pretence  of  saving  her  soul.  She  knew 
only  that  a  wild  desire  to  run  away  possessed 
her,  one  too  strong  to  be  withstood.  She  merely 
obeyed  her  reigning  impulse  as  she  had  done  all 
her  life.  With  the  morrow  a  new  one  might 
come  and  then  there  would  be  plenty  of  time  to 
yield  to  that. 


154  ROBERT  ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 


XIV 

THE  day  following  his  interview  with  Meryl, 
Annys  was  obliged  to  answer  an  urgent  call  from 
the  men  of  a  hamlet  outside  of  the  See  of  Ely. 
These  people  had  refused  to  pay  the  tithes  due 
to  the  Church,  seeing  that  the  rector  was  a  man 
who  had  never  seen  those  parts,  and  who  had  long 
since  rented  the  church  building  to  a  precious 
couple  who  conducted  there  a  highly  profitable 
tavern. 

Notwithstanding  the  strong  case  which  the 
people  surely  had,  the  Church  prepared  to  wage 
a  bitter  struggle  to  enforce  its  rights.  For  it 
would  never  do  in  the  world  to  admit  the  princi 
ple  that  the  people  but  paid  for  service  rendered. 
Indeed,  such  an  admission  would  end  in  the  bank 
ruptcy  of  many  an  entire  diocese.  The  people 
craved  the  help  and  advice  of  Robert  Annys. 
There  was  no  doubt  on  which  side  he  would  be 
found.  Meryl  accompanied  him  part  of  the  dis 
tance  on  his  way  to  Gloucester  to  confer  with  the 
men  of  that  neighborhood.  He  had  asked  for 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          155 

some  work  to  do  that  would  help  him  forget  his 
keen  disappointment  and  that  at  the  same  time 
would  take  him  from  Matilda's  presence.  As  the 
two  men  separated,  they  clasped  hands  warmly, 
and  Meryl  promised  to  do  his  utmost  to  gain 
strength  and  courage  to  take  up  again  his  life  at 
the  Bury.  He  was  determined,  however,  not  to 
return  until  Matilda  and  the  poor  priest  were 
wedded. 

Directly  on  the  line  of  the  hamlet  where  Annys 
was  awaited,  lay  Colchester,  in  the  county  of  Essex, 
on  the  outskirts  of  which  dwelled  the  wife  of  the 
refugee  who  had  been  saved  by  the  devotion  of 
the  Westels.  Annys  found  her  on  the  point  of 
giving  birth  to  a  child,  and  kept  from  actual 
starvation  only  by  the  generosity  of  those  who 
had  but  little  more  than  she.  When  she  learned 
from  the  poor  priest  that  not  alone  her  husband 
was  safe,  but  that  he  was  earning  fair  wages,  a 
portion  of  which  Annys  bore  for  her  in  his  wallet, 
her  pinched  face  brightened.  He  was  strangely 
touched  by  her  broken  murmurs  of  gratitude ; 
never  before  had  an  expectant  mother  appealed 
to  him  in  the  same  way.  His  heart  warmed  even 
toward  the  three-year-old  fellow  who  peered  at 
him  dubiously  from  his  mother's  skirts.  The 
knowledge  that  before  long  he  would  take  unto 


156  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

himself  a  wife  was  a  leaven  that  leavened  every 
thought  and  every  act. 

Although  he  endured  great  hardship  tramp 
ing  along  the  highway,  with  little  rest  and  less 
food,  although  he  bore  with  him  always  the 
heavy  responsibilities  he  had  assumed,  never 
theless  his  fortnight  of  absence  sped  by  as  in 
a  dream.  He  seemed  to  move  in  a  new  and 
strange  world.  His  heart  leapt  within  him 
because  he  experienced  a  totally  new  and  more 
intimate  sense  of  fellowship  with  the  rest  of 
mankind.  There  was  given  him  a  keener  and 
profounder  insight  into  their  hearts.  Scarce 
could  he  keep  his  eyes  from  the  laborers  who 
returned  at  nightfall  from  the  fields  and  swung 
their  tots  over  their  heads.  He  followed  funeral 
corteges  as  they  wound  over  hill  and  dale  with 
tears  dimming  his  eyes.  A  new  understanding 
of  the  agony  of  separation  came  upon  him.  He 
thought  much  of  his  mother,  who  was  but  a 
beautiful  memory  to  him.  He  wondered  where 
she  was  buried,  and  resolved  to  discover  her 
grave,  if  possible,  and  visit  it  to  whisper  to  her 
his  new-found  happiness. 

For  there  had  long  been  growing  within  him 
the  conviction  that  the  Church  could  not  truly 
be  brought  to  the  people  until  the  clergy  became 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         157 

more  a  part  of  the  people.  The  clergy  could  not 
truly  minister  to  the  people  until  they  understood 
the  people,  until  they  shared  the  same  hopes  and 
joys,  the  same  fears  and  sorrows.  The  great 
emotions  that  come  with  family  life  and  family 
affections  must  be  brought  back  to  those  that 
served  men.  He  felt  that  the  very  completeness 
of  the  self-surrender  that  had  been  demanded  by 
the  early  Fathers  of  the  Church  had  struck  a  false 
note  that  had  rung  down  the  centuries,  —  the  note 
of  a  cold  egoism  and  isolation  of  spirit.  With  all 
the  strength  of  his  soul  he  rebelled  against  the 
cruel  mandate  of  St.  Jerome,  which  was  respon 
sible  for  much  that  was  abnormal  in  the  lives  of 
the  saints :  — 

"Though  your  little  nephew  twine  his  arms  around  your 
neck ;  though  your  mother,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  tearing 
her  robe  asunder,  point  to  the  breast  with  which  she  suckled 
you  ;  though  your  father  fall  down  on  the  threshold  before  you, 
pass  over  your  father's  body.  Fly  with  tearless  eyes  to  the 
banner  of  the  cross.  .  .  .  Such  chains  as  these,  the  love  of 
God  and  fear  of  hell  can  easily  break." 

This  drying  up  of  the  commonest  sources  of 
affection,  how  could  it  spread  the  love  and  fellow 
ship  which  were  the  essence  of  Christliness  ? 
Even  the  indomitable  believer  in  celibacy,  the 
great  Hildebrand  himself,  had  said :  — 


i58  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  From  love  to  God  to  show  love  to  one's 
neighbor  .  .  .  this  I  consider  more  than  prayers, 
fastings,  vigils,  or  other  good  works." 

And  what  so  readily  and  completely  opens  the 
heart  to  one's  neighbor  as  to  live  that  neighbor's 
life  ? 

To  watch  the  love-light  of  motherhood  irradiate 
the  features  of  your  wife  as  her  new-born  babe  is 
placed  within  her  arms  ;  to  watch  the  shadow  of 
death  creep  over  the  tiny  form  of  the  little  one 
you  adore;  in  short,  to  suffer,  to  know,  to  weep, 
to  laugh,  as  others  suffer  and  know,  and  weep  and 
laugh  —  that,  and  that  only,  is  to  love. 

It  was  a  deep-seated  satisfaction  to  him  that 
love  had  come  to  him  as  he  had  always  prayed 
for  it,  —  a  beautiful,  spiritual,  uplifting  experience. 
Love,  he  had  always  contended,  was  a  holy  thing. 
Had  not  Jesus  used  the  simile  of  the  bride  and 
the  bridegroom  to  express  the  love  of  the  religious 
for  her  God,  of  the  priest  for  his  Church  ?  Never 
theless,  over  all  the  writings  of  the  Fathers  and 
the  Saints  a  false  and  unhealthful  asceticism  had 
spread  a  morbid  view  of  sexual  love.  Their  pages 
were  soiled  by  a  horror  of  passion  which  in  itself 
was  a  surrender  to  it.  The  very  violence  of  their 
dread,  the  very  vehemence  of  their  agonies,  spoke 
not  only  of  a  lack  of  self-control,  but  of  a  pru- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         159 

riency  of  imagination  which  would  not  have  been 
present  in  a  normal  man.  Gone  utterly  was  the 
frank  cleanness  of  the  Scriptures :  — 

"  For  he  created  all  things  that  they  might  have  being,  and 
the  generative  powers  of  the  world  are  healthsome,  and  there 
is  no  poison  of  destruction  in  them." 

And  in  its  place  came  a  distorted  self-conscious 
ness  that  was  carried  to  absurd  extremes.  It 
caused  one  saint  to  cover  his  hands  with  rags 
before  he  would  consent  to  carry  his  own  mother 
across  a  bridge  —  a  highly  edifying  incident  which 
was  related  with  much  spiritual  gusto  by  the 
saint's  biographer. 

The  tortures  of  St.  Anthony,  the  revelations 
of  St.  Augustine,  the  temptations  of  St.  Benedict, 
were  all  to  Robert  Annys  incomprehensible.  He 
had  never  known  his  pulse  to  bound  one  beat  the 
quicker  at  the  sight  of  a  woman.  Women  there 
had  been  who,  stirred  by  his  great  beauty,  had 
striven  with  such  poor  art  as  they  possessed  to 
awaken  desire  within  him,  but  he  had  always  put 
them  aside  calmly  and  passed  on  in  the  work  of 
the  Lord. 

On  his  return  he  lost  no  time  in  seeking  out 
Matilda.  This  time  he  needed  no  one  to  inter 
pret  the  joy  that  surged  up  into  her  face  as  she 


160  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

looked  on  him.  He  smiled  tenderly  on  her  as 
she  told  him  of  her  doings  during  his  absence, 
how  she  had  nursed  a  girl  through  a  terrible 
fever,  how  she  had  read  the  Gospel  to  many  eager 
souls,  how  she  had  taught  an  old  man  his  letters, 
how  she  had  progressed  with  her  grandmother's 
lessons.  Then  when  she  paused,  and  asked  shyly, 
"  Did  thy  pupil  well  ?  "  he  came  close  to  her  and 
took  her  hand. 

"  Well  ?  Why,  I  could  not  have  done  half  so 
well  myself.  Ah,  I  need  thee,  I  need  thee  always. 
What  sayst  thou  ?  Canst  take  me,  a  poor  priest 
with  no  better  lot  to  offer  thee  than  that  which 
my  master  hath  enjoined  upon  me?"' 

"  I  shall  love  thee  the  better  for  it,"  she  whis 
pered. 

"  It  will  be  no  easy  life.  I  will  cherish  thee 
dearly,  yet  never  can  I  set  thy  desires  above  the 
call  of  duty,"  he  said  with  a  certain  austereness, 
as  if,  even  then,  he  was  replying  to  the  charges  of 
the  Hierarchy. 

"  I  wish  to  help  thee,  not  to  hinder  thee,"  was 
her  instant  reply.  And  in  her  face  were  a  faith 
and  an  enthusiasm  that  would  never  waver. 

"  Ah,  of  a  truth  ! "  he  said,  "  had  Paul  known 
thee,  never  would  he  have  said  a  married  man  is 
careful  only  for  the  things  of  this  world.  Surely 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         161 

now  I  shall  belong  more  truly  than  ever  to  the 
Lord." 

He  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her  tenderly  on 
her  forehead.  Her  head,  with  its  smooth,  orderly 
golden  braids,  drooped  shyly  on  to  his  shoulder, 
and  her  heart  beat  against  his.  His  kiss  was 
such  as  a  brother  bestows  on  a  beloved  sister,  but 
her  lips  were  too  pure  to  know  their  loss. 

He  held  her  to  him  in  sweet  content  at  having 
found  the  wife  he  had  dreamed  of.  He  knew 
nothing  of  the  love  that  burns  and  scorches,  in 
stead  of  soothing,  and  as  he  felt  the  deep  peace 
of  being  in  her  presence  and  feeling  her  love  like 
a  benediction  rest  upon  him,  he  marvelled  yet 
again,  as  so  often  he  had  done  in  the  past,  how 
the  Fathers  of  the  Church  could  so  have  maligned 
the  love  of  man  for  woman. 

His  vision  stretched  far  along  the  future,  seeing 
only  peace  in  his  life,  and  the  crowning  joy  of  a 
woman's  touch  which  blunders  not. 

"  The  Lord  hath  been  very  gracious  unto  me," 
he  said  simply,  looking  down  on  her. 

Then,  at  the  sound  of  a  light  laugh,  he  turned 
and  met  the  eyes  of  Rose  Westel. 


162  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 


XV 

SHE  made  a  beautiful  picture  as  she  stood 
there  with  an  inward  tumult  chasing  the  rich 
blood  in  and  out  her  cheeks,  and  in  her  eyes  a 
world  of  passion  and  rebellion.  Always  beauti 
ful,  there  was  a  subtle  tremulous  excitement 
about  her  now  which,  as  she  gazed  boldly  at  the 
young  poor  priest,  leapt  into  his  veins  as  flames 
leap  into  fagots.  She  was  trembling  from  a 
revelation  of  her  own  self,  and  she  had  flown 
home  in  a  wild  mood,  in  which  fear  and  reckless 
ness  and  a  certain  exhilaration  from  which  she 
could  not  escape,  all  had  their  part. 

She  possessed  a  figure  that  would  have  graced 
the  more  flowing  robes  of  the  gentles  had  they 
been  permitted  her,  yet  her  skirt  of  bright  green 
was  hardly  as  scant  as  befitted  her  station  in  life. 
Her  tight-fitting,  sleeveless  kirtle  was  of  a  dull 
brown,  for  she  scorned  the  gown  of  one  color 
which  was  commanded  by  law.  Above  the  kirtle 
shone  her  bare,  white  neck.  She  wore  about 
her  waist  a  girdle  of  gold  which  some  great  lady 


A  TALE   OF  THE  GREAT  UPRISING         163 

had  once  bestowed  upon  her,  refusing  to  give  it 
up  even  in  the  face  of  Parliament,  which  of  late 
had  protested  vigorously  against  the  extrava 
gance  of  those  who  could  not  afford  it,  forbidding 
to  any  but  a  lady  of  high  degree  a  girdle  other 
than  of  plain  linen. 

From  her  quick  run,  the  long  red  cap  which 
should  have  covered  her  ears  and  neck  had  be 
come  disarranged,  revealing  a  bit  of  her  hair 
which  was  caught  up  in  a  net  of  wide  meshes 
and  in  the  sunlight  shone  like  burnished  mahog 
any.  Her  large  hazel  eyes  had  glints  of  brilliant 
gold  at  times,  her  lips  were  as  the  scarlet  of  frost- 
touched  maples.  There  was  about  her  a  wonder 
ful  glow  of  vitality.  Looking  on  her,  a  rush  of 
life  swept  over  one  as  a  rush  of  salt-laden  air 
sweeps  over  one  who  stands  by  the  sea.  Her 
coloring  was  not  like  that  of  any  other  woman. 
Merely  to  describe  it  as  blonde  or  brunette  would 
be  like  dipping  one's  brush  into  a  palette  of  dull 
browns  to  paint  the  sunset.  There  was  an  in 
describable  brilliancy  about  her  that  made  one 
think  of  an  October  day.  She  was  the  incarna 
tion  of  the  Autumn  —  a  living,  warm,  radiant 
Autumn;  not  at  all  the  Autumn  of  death  and 
decay,  of  sobbing  winds  and  whirling  leaves,  but 
a  vivid,  glowing  Autumn,  with  all  its  own  glory 


1 64  ROBERT  ANNYS  :    POOR   PRIEST 

of  color,  and  yet  with  the  freshness  and  looking- 
future-ward  of  the  Spring. 

She  had  been  fleeing  from  a  forester  who  had 
been  sent  in  quest  of  her  by  the  Baron  de  Leau- 
fort.  He,  inflamed  by  her  beauty,  set  out  on  a 
bit  of  love-making  on  his  own  account.  Not  a 
bad-looking  fellow  he  was  in  his  way,  his  great 
figure  set  off  splendidly  by  his  livery  of  bright 
green,  with  the  baudrick  of  cardinal  tied  about 
his  shoulders  and  holding  his  horn.  His  sword 
and  buckler  hung  to  one  side,  and  his  mighty 
bow  he  bore  in  his  hand,  the  brilliant  peacock 
feathers  of  his  arrows  peeping  from  his  full 
quiver.  She  had  had  no  eye,  however,  for  his 
charms,  for  her  mind  was  full  of  the  conscious 
ness  that  the  Baron  had  sent  after  her.  But 
he  at  her  side  thought  that  not  even  the  Lady 
Augusta,  the  Baron's  beautiful  sister,  could  com 
pare  with  this  rustic  beauty,  not  my  lady  with 
her  wimple  of  delicate  sheer  white  stuff  and  her 
flowing  robes  of  royal  crimson  embroidered  with 
gold  and  outlined  in  ermine.  Surely  his  Lord 
ship  had  women  in  plenty  to  console  himself 
with,  and  besides,  he  could  say  he  had  not  been 
able  to  find  her. 

"  By  our  Lady,"  he  cried,  "  the  Baron  should 
know  enough  not  to  send  another  hunting  for 


A  TALE  OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          165 

him  and  the  game  so  worth  the  having.  Nay, 
'tis  not  in  human  nature  to  expect  me  to  bag  you 
for  him  and  not  have  a  wee  taste  for  myself." 

Rose  shrank  from  his  touch.  "  Nay,  be  not  too 
proud,  little  one.  Big  Harry  hath  met  many  a 
fine  lady  who  hath  not  shrunk  from  his  advances. 
A  strapping  fellow  like  myself,  not  so  bad-look 
ing,  oft  hath  his  uses  not  indented  in  the  bond 
to  his  overlord.  Tis  easily  accomplished  if  thou 
wilt  come  with  me  as  my  sweetheart ;  'tis  easy  to 
tell  the  Baron  that  in  some  way  thou  hast  slipped 
through  his  fingers  and  cannot  be  found.  By 
to-morrow  he'll  have  a  dozen  making  him  forget 
all  about  thee." 

She  suddenly  was  awake  to  his  meaning. 
"  Have  a  care,  have  a  care,  fellow,"  she  cried. 
"  This  impudence  shall  not  go  unreported,  I 
promise  thee,  and  thine  ears  shall  ring  for  it." 

In  a  rage  nothing  could  exceed  the  girl's  beauty. 
Quite  carried  away  by  it,  the  fellow  seized  her 
about  the  waist  and  kissed  her  so  fiercely  and 
breathlessly  that  she  could  not  scream.  She  felt 
herself  drawn  closer  and  closer  to  him,  and  his 
eyes  burned  into  her ;  she  noticed  that  they  swam 
wildly  in  his  head  and  showed  their  whites  like 
a  man  who  had  lost  his  reason.  As  one  hand 
loosened  for  an  instant,  she  made  a  frantic  effort 


166  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

of  her  strength,  and  slipping  from  his  clasp,  she 
bounded  away  like  a  hare  through  the  woods 
before  he  had  recovered  from  his  astonishment. 
She  rushed  on  in  a  wild  tumult.  It  had  been 
quite  different  when  the  Baron  had  kissed  her; 
now  she  felt  degraded ;  tears  of  indignation  and 
rage  ran  down  her  cheeks.  She  was  furious  to 
think  that  a  forester  of  the  Baron  would  dare  so 
insult  her.  A  forester  indeed !  That  were  to 
fall  lower  than  her  mother.  And  yet  he  was  a 
likely-looking  fellow  and  there  was  no  denying 
it,  there  was  something  within  her  that  re 
sponded  to  his  wild  love-making.  As  she  first 
became  aware  of  it  she  ran  harder  and  harder,  as 
if  she  could  run  away  from  herself.  She  wanted 
to  escape  something  within  her  that  made  her 
afraid,  but  it  was  of  no  use,  she  might  as  well 
face  it.  She  missed  the  strong  pressure  of  the 
fellow's  brawny  arms ;  there  was  a  somewhat  deep 
down  within  her  that  wanted  to  see,  just  for  an 
instant  again,  that  peculiar  expression  in  his  face, 
—  a  somewhat  that  longed  for  that  rain  of  hot 
kisses.  There  it  was  out !  She  had  a  horror  of 
herself;  on  and  on  she  sped,  panting,  panting. 
What  was  it  that  had  come  over  her  ?  She  had 
fled  from  the  fellow,  her  maidenhood  had  revolted, 
and  she  had  escaped  from  him,  but  she  could  not 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          167 

escape  from  the  tumult  he  had  stirred  within  her. 
So,  then,  she  was  a  woman  who  could  not  remain 
unresponsive  to  a  man's  love-making,  no  matter 
who  he  be  ?  Oh,  shame  !  shame  !  was  she  to  burn 
at  the  touch  of  every  clodhopper,  she  who  had 
thought  herself  so  immeasurably  above  them  all  ? 
There  was  no  one  to  tell  her  that  hers  was  merely 
a  high-strung,  overwrought  temperament  which 
responds  when  played  upon  as  a  delicate  instru 
ment  responds  to  the  slightest  touch.  It  was 
no  more  within  her  power  to  be  indifferent  to 
the  contact  with  passion  than  it  was  within  the 
power  of  mercury  to  refuse  to  mark  the  changes 
in  the  temperature. 

In  this  wild  mood  she  had  fled  to  her  home,  and 
come  upon  the  young  poor  priest  with  his  arm 
about  her  cousin.  "  Always  love-making,  love- 
making,''  she  thought,  "  no  end  to  it  all."  And 
yet  this  was  no  wild  paroxysm  before  her,  but  a 
picture  of  calm  joy  and  peace.  Dimly  she  realized 
even  then  that  to  waken  such  love  was  not  in  her 
power,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  caught 
herself  actually  envying  her  cousin  Matilda. 

"  This  is  my  cousin  Rose,"  said  Matilda.  And 
then  flinging  both  arms  about  Rose,  she  whis 
pered  in  her  ear,  "  Just  think !  We  are  going  to 
be  married.  I  must  tell  thee." 


i68  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

Rose  smiled.  She  thought  few  would  be 
surprised.  She  took  Robert's  hand  in  hers  and 
clasped  it  warmly. 

"  She  is  a  dear  good  girl,"  she  said.  "  You 
will  be  very  happy." 

He  found  no  answer  on  his  tongue,  and  although 
he  was  fully  conscious  of  the  absurdity  of  it,  he 
immediately  proposed  that  Matilda  bring  the 
Bible  and  that  they  see  how  much  progress  she 
had  made  during  his  absence.  He  politely  in 
vited  Rose  to  listen  and  to  Matilda's  surprise  she 
readily  acquiesced,  she  who  had  always  scoffed 
at  their  Bible  reading.  Only  she  begged  that 
the  poor  priest  read  instead  of  Matilda. 

So  in  his  exquisitely  modulated  voice  he  began : 

"  For  the  sovereign  Lord  of  all  will  not  refrain  himself  for 
any  man's  person,  neither  will  he  reverence  greatness,  because 
it  is  he  that  made  both  small  and  great." 

But  while  his  lips  uttered  those  words  his  heart 

sang :  — 

"  Thy  lips  are  like  a  thread  of  scarlet, 
And  thy  mouth  is  comely  : 
Thou  art  all  fair,  my  love ; 
And  there  is  no  spot  in  thee." 

When  Matilda  started  up,  suddenly  saying  she 
had  heard  the  voice  of  her  grandmother  calling, 
the  heavy  folio  slipped  unheeded  from  his  knee, 
and  he  gazed  steadily  at  Rose  with  eyes  that  bore 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          169 

a  look  as  if  a  thick  veil  had  suddenly  fallen  from 
them.  There  was  a  world  of  pathos  in  his  face, 
for  he  realized,  even  as  he  gazed  on  her,  that 
nothing  again  could  ever  look  to  him  as  it  had 
looked  before  this  moment  had  come.  Rose  had 
watched  him  furtively  while  he  read,  surprised  to 
find  him  so  handsome.  She  had  never  seen  him 
other  than  at  a  distance,  for  his  coarse  russet 
gown  had  repelled  her.  But  now  she  observed 
with  astonishment  how  beautiful  were  his  deep- 
set,  blue  eyes,  how  noble  his  high  forehead,  how 
exquisitely  moulded  his  lips  and  chin,  how  proud 
the  carriage  of  his  head.  Everything  about  him, 
even  his  slender,  delicate  hands,  spoke  of  a  refine 
ment  far  beyond  even  that  of  the  Baron,  for  all 
his  silks  and  embroideries.  Prim  little  Matilda 
was  not  so  foolish,  then,  after  all ! 

As  he  looked  on  her,  he  saw  with  bewilderment 
all  his  well-laid  plans  come  crashing  to  the  ground. 
He  had  been  so  sure  of  himself  (but  self-pride 
had  ever  been  his  besetting  sin).  Here  was  a  les 
son  in  humility,  indeed !  He  understand  the  love 
of  a  woman  !  He,  forsooth,  an  ignorant  young 
ster!  He,  who  but  a  half-hour  ago  (when  he 
had  been  ages  younger)  had  been  willing  to  lay 
down  the  law  to  saints  and  martyrs !  Ignoramus  ! 
Had  he  not  held  a  woman's  form  to  his  and 


i;o  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

praised  God  that  his  heart  had  not  beat  one  stroke 
the  quicker?  Had  not  he  pressed  a  kiss  on  a 
woman's  brow  and  been  thankful  that  there  had 
been  no  unchaste  thrill  ?  Well  did  he  know  now 
with  a  sudden  revelation  that  he  could  not  so 
much  as  touch  this  woman's  hand  but  the  blood 
would  mount  like  strong  wine  to  his  head.  There 
was  a  touch  of  solemnity  in  his  eyes  as  they  rested 
on  the  face  that  was  teaching  him  so  much. 
When  at  last  she  stirred  uneasily  under  his  per 
sistent  gaze,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  hours,  months, 
—  years,  had  passed. 

"  Thou  hast  ravished  my  heart,  my  sister,  my  bride  ; 
Thou  has  ravished  my  heart 
With  one  look  from  thine  eyes. 
With  one  chain  of  thy  neck." 

She  started  at  the  low  words  which  seemed  to 
escape  him  involuntarily.  Annys  continued  to 
gaze  gravely  on  her,  and  came  near  to  her. 

"Why  didst  thou  come  into  my  life  ?  "  he  asked 
quietly. 

Then  after  an  instant's  pause  for  the  reply 
which  did  not  come,  he  added  hopelessly,  with  a 
weary  sigh,  "  I  had  thought  myself  so  happy." 

And  then  without  one  word  more  he  was  gone. 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          171 


XVI 

THE  following  morning,  as  Matilda  accompa 
nied  Annys  on  an  errand  of  mercy,  she  noticed  his 
haggard  face. 

"  I  have  passed  the  night  in  prayer,"  was  all 
he  vouchsafed  to  her  anxious  inquiries.  He  did 
not  tell  her  what  his  prayer  had  been.  Indeed, 
now  that  the  morning  had  come,  and  Matilda 
was  by  his  side,  the  long,  sleepless  night  seemed 
as  an  evil  dream. 

They  were  on  their  way  to  an  old  man  who 
was  lying  on  the  point  of  death,  kept  alive  only 
by  his  strong  yearning  to  be  shrived  by  Robert 
Annys.  Matilda  had  paid  daily  visits  to  the 
old  man  during  the  poor  priest's  absence.  As 
Annys  looked  down  on  the  good,  strong  woman 
by  his  side,  he  felt  himself  possessed  by  a  new 
strength.  He  believed  he  would  be  able  to  shake 
off  the  spell  that  had  come  over  him.  He  must 
keep  near  Matilda,  he  must  not  let  her  go  from 
him.  There  was  medicine  in  her  perfect  com 
panionship. 


172  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

As  they  paused  before  a  dilapidated  house  on 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  Rose  came  by. 

<:  Ever  going  about  comforting  others,"  she 
hailed  them  in  her  light  way;  "in  truth,  wings  will 
yet  grow  on  the  pair  of  you." 

Matilda  laughed,  but  Annys  kept  his  eyes 
gravely  on  the  door  which  stood  ajar  before  him. 
A  horrid,  gasping  sound  came  from  within.  Rose 
shuddered.  "  Ugh  !  "  she  cried,  "  how  canst  thou, 
Matilda,  poke  about  in  those  filthy  places  ?  See, 
it  is  a  perfect  day.  Come  with  me  into  the  woods 
and  go  nutting." 

Then  as  Matilda  shook  her  head,  she  added  in 
a  sanctimonious  tone,  "  Hast  no  pity  for  the  poor 
nuts  a-rotting  on  the  cold  hard  ground  ? " 

The  words  were  addressed  to  Matilda,  yet  the 
man  by  her  side  read  the  invitation  in  them,  his 
senses  all  astir. 

"Oh,  Rose,  Rose,"  expostulated  Matilda, " thou 
dost  love  to  make  thyself  out  far  worse  than  thou 
art.  Cease  these  gibes  and  enter  with  us ;  a  sight 
of  thy  pretty  face  will  gladden  the  poor  soul." 

But  a  look  of  disgust  passed  over  Rose's  face. 
"  Go  in  there  ?  I  ?  B'r'r !  Go  near  that  horrid 
old  man  who  fastens  one  rheumy  eye  on  you  while 
his  slobbery  chin  shakes  like  a  huge  jelly  ?  B'r'r !  " 

Annys's  face  was  tense  and  hard.     He  never 


A   TALE   OF  THE  GREAT  UPRISING          173 

turned  his  eyes  from  the  door,  yet  the  golden 
brown  of  her  dancing  eyes  quivered  before  him, 
the  scarlet  of  her  full  lips  scorched  into  him.  He 
was  aware  of  every  inch  of  her  disdainful,  impish 
presence  as  she  stood  there  watching  him  from  a 
corner  of  one  eye.  But  without  turning  he  bade 
Matilda  follow  him,  and  the  two  were  swallowed 
up  in  the  dim  interior  of  the  hovel.  The  girl 
outside  shook  with  suppressed  laughter,  yet  she 
bit  her  lip  in  some  impatience  and  puffed  out  her 
cheeks  in  an  odd  little  grimace. 

Within,  the  old  man  lavishly  poured  blessings 
upon  them  both;  upon  Matilda  for  keeping  her 
promise  to  bring  the  poor  priest,  upon  him  for 
coming. 

"  Never  would  I  have  seen  this  day,"  he  de 
clared,  ubut  for  her.  She  did  come  every  day, 
cheering  me  and  helping  me  wait." 

Annys  smiled  tenderly  on  Matilda  who  stood 
blushing  by  his  side.  But  even  as  he  smiled,  he 
was  conscious  of  a  strange  red  glow  dancing 
before  his  eyes.  Suddenly  the  old  man  sat  up, 
and  seizing  Matilda's  hand  in  his  bony  fingers, 
placed  it  within  the  poor  priest's  hand. 

"  That  is  right,"  he  whispered  as  he  did  so. 
"  Bless  you  both  —  a  pair  of  saints  !  " 

Annys  started  violently  and  snatched  his  hand 


174  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

away  before  he  was  aware  of  it.  He  was  mad 
dened  by  that  glow  which  was  everywhere,  on 
the  walls,  on  Matilda,  on  the  straw  where  the  old 
man  lay,  on  the  ghastly,  emaciated  face.  He 
tried  to  recover  his  composure  and  sought  to 
take  Matilda's  hand  and  press  it,  but  she  was 
visibly  offended  and  withdrew  from  the  bedside. 
The  invalid's  sudden  spark  of  vitality  died 
down,  leaving  him  barely  conscious.  Matilda 
left  sadly,  and  Annys  sank  on  his  knees  by  the 
pallet,  praying  for  the  departing  soul.  When,  half 
an  hour  later,  he  left  the  hut,  it  was  to  walk  to  the 
other  end  of  the  village  where  another  sufferer 
awaited  him.  He  walked  on,  his  head  bowed. 
He  tried  to  fix  his  thoughts  on  the  patient  young 
girl  whose  last  hours  he  was  about  to  soothe,  but 
the  face  that  hovered  before  him  had  none  of  the 
pallor  of  death.  Suddenly  he  was  roused  by  a 
slight  stirring  before  him,  and  he  looked  up  star 
tled  to  find  himself  in  the  thick  of  the  woods, 
under  a  great  chestnut  tree,  while  before  him  was 
the  bent  form  of  Rose,  gathering  the  nuts  into  a 
little  basket.  So,  then,  his  feet  had  carried  him 
there  to  her  against  his  will !  His  face  was  even 
a  shade  paler  than  its  wont,  and  his  hands  were 
clenched  fiercely,  as  he  turned  about  and  walked 
rapidly  in  the  opposite  direction. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          175 

He  had  not  been  quick  enough,  however,  to 
escape  being  seen,  for  as  he  left,  the  girl  straight 
ened  herself  and  gazed  after  him.  For  a  few 
seconds  her  shoulders  shook  with  laughter,  then 
suddenly  her  face  sobered,  and  she  bit  her  lips  in 
vexation. 


176  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR  PRIEST 


XVII 

ALL  that  day  and  night  Matilda  brooded  over 
Robert's  strange  behavior.  Nevertheless,  she 
greeted  him  calmly  when,  the  next  day,  he  ap 
proached  while  she  was  busily  spinning  before 
her  door.  Seeing  Rose  lying  full  length  upon 
the  grass,  idly  plucking  handfuls  of  it  and  fling 
ing  them  at  Matilda,  he  hesitated.  "  Why  do  the 
feet  of  a  lover  lag?"  Rose  asked,  impudently 
looking  up  at  Annys.  Matilda  colored.  She 
talked  with  Annys,  while  Rose  looked  on  with 
an  amused  air.  "Ah,  Matilda,  dear,"  she  began 
after  an  instant,  "  after  all,  didst  thou  well  to 
plight  thy  troth  to  a  poor  priest?" 

"  Wilt  ever  be  serious  ? "  asked  her  cousin, 
annoyed. 

"  I  am  as  serious  as  a  Bishop,"  she  replied. 
"  Indeed  I  have  not  seen  him  kiss  thee  once.  Of 
a  truth  I  have  not." 

Matilda  vowed  she  would  leave  if  another  word 
were  said  of  such  nonsense.  Rose  smiled  mali 
ciously  and  watched  the  poor  priest's  set  face, 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          177 

while  all  sorts  of  pert  sayings  hovered  on  the 
end  of  her  tongue. 

"  Old  Silas  died,"  announced  Annys,  gravely, 
"  I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"  And  how  is  dear  Betty  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  get  to  her  last  night,"  he  said  in 
some  confusion.  Rose  laughed  to  herself.  Ma 
tilda  looked  grieved.  "  Ah,  the  poor  girl!"  she 
said,  "  she  longed  for  you  so." 

"  Oh,  these  lovers  will  be  the  death  of  me ! " 
broke  out  Rose,  no  longer  able  to  contain  her 
self.  "  Were  I  blessed  with  a  lover,  now,  I  vow 
it  would  not  be  of  corpses  and  dying  girls  we 
would  talk ! " 

"  Be  quiet,  Rose !  "  exclaimed  Matilda,  sternly 
for  her,  "  we  talk  of  serious  things." 

"  That's  what  I  complain  of !  "  pouted  the  irre 
pressible  girl. 

Matilda  and  Annys  spoke  together  a  few  min 
utes  in  whispers. 

At  last  flinging  a  handful  of  grass  straight  at 
him  :  — 

"  When  will  be  the  happy  day  ?  "  she  drawled. 

He  started  nervously.  "  I  have  a  journey  to 
take,"  he  said  in  a  strained  voice.  "  I  leave 
to-morrow.  I  do  not  know  just  when  I  can  re- 
turn." 


178  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

Rose's  eyebrows  lifted  in  surprise.  Matilda 
regarded  him  anxiously. 

"Yea,  I  have  received  an  urgent  call.  I  had 
come  to  tell  thee." 

But  there  had  been  no  call,  and  Rose's  mock 
ing  eyes  seemed  to  read  his  subterfuge. 

"  Wilt  return  for  the  Fair  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Surely,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  promised  to  be 
there.  Men  will  gather  there  from  every  county." 

"  I  will  be  there,"  she  announced  quickly,  and 
then  laughed  to  see  the  dismay  in  his  face. 

"  And  Matilda,  too,  surely  ? "  he  hastened  to 
ask.  But  Matilda  shook  her  head. 

"  I  may  not  be  spared,"  she  said  gently. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Matilda  is  the  saint.  I  am  the 
selfish,  wilful  one,"  laughed  Rose,  who  seemed 
determined  to  make  Annys  uncomfortable. 

"  I  must  go  to  Betty  now,"  Annys  said. 
"  Good-by,  Matilda,  I  shall  see  thee  soon  again 
—  immediately  after  the  Fair."  He  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead,  and  for  the  first  time  he  felt  her 
shrink  from  his  touch. 

"  Be  sure  to  return  in  time  from  that  important 
mission ! "  Rose  called  after  him.  And  Matilda 
looked  at  her,  wondering. 

He  walked  rapidly  on,  his  mind  in  a  whirl, 
taking  no  note  of  where  he  was  going.  That 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          179 

sudden,  unpremeditated  lie  agonized  him.  And 
yet,  perhaps,  after  all,  this  lie  would  be  his  salva 
tion.  Perhaps  once  away  from  that  girl  with  her 
maddening  beauty  he  could  cast  off  the  spell  she 
had  wrought  upon  him.  It  was  a  daily  torture 
to  meet  Matilda  with  a  lie  on  his  heart,  to  meet 
Rose  was  but  a  torture  of  another  kind.  Yes, 
he  would  go  away  for  a  brief  spell. 

Suddenly  he  found  himself  before  the  walls  of 
the  Monastery  of  the  Bury  St.  Edmonds.  For  the 
first  time  he  longed  for  the  peace  that  was  there. 
There,  before  him,  was  but  the  thickness  of  a  few 
stones,  and  yet  the  men  behind  it,  how  immeas 
urably  separated  were  they  from  the  rest  of  the 
world !  All  the  forces  of  nature  —  chains  of 
mountains  and  the  turbulent  streams  of  the  for 
ests —  had  not  in  them  the  powers  of  isolation 
that  rested  in  that  wall  erected  by  the  hand  of 
man.  He  stood  without,  in  the  midst  of  the 
strenuousness,  the  revolt,  the  passion,  and  sorrow 
of  the  world  :  they  within  were  taken  up  and  cared 
for  as  little  children  in  the  lap  of  some  great 
hearted  Mother.  The  world  and  its  ways  and  all 
worldliness  went  on  far  from  them,  and  no  sound 
of  the  battle  of  the  forces,  good  and  evil,  ever 
was  heard.  An  orderly  and  unbroken  succes 
sion  of  tasks  was  laid  out  for  them.  They  had 


i8o  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR    PRIEST 

no  difficult  problems  to  weigh,  no  decisions  to 
make.  Ah,  how  he  envied  them  for  that !  There 
was  no  fretting  over  the  duty  of  the  morrow  or  the 
day  after  the  morrow,  the  mind  was  kept  fixed  on 
the  duty  of  the  moment ;  from  this  one  passed 
imperceptibly  to  the  duty  of  the  hour,  to  the  duty 
of  the  day.  From  Matin  to  Prime  and  from 
Prime  to  Tierce,  from  Tierce  to  Sexte,  and  Sexte 
to  None,  and  again  to  Vespers  and  on  to  Com 
pline,  certain  tasks  that  in  no  case  may  be  missed 
or  deferred:  prayers  to  be  chanted  during  the 
day;  one  hundred  and  fifty  psalms  of  David 
divided  so  that  the  whole  psalter  should  be 
chanted  every  week;  the  taking  one's  turn  to  be 
cook,  or  to  wait  upon  the  table  in  the  refectory, 
or  to  read  from  some  pious  book  while  the  others 
ate  in  silence.  So,  calmly,  unresisting,  one  slipped 
down  the  gentle  slope  to  death. 

Ah,  no  wonder  Alcuin  had  passionately  la 
mented  his  cloister  when  he  was  called  to  the 
court  of  Charlemagne  :  — 

"  Oh,  my  sweet  cell !  and  well-beloved  home.     Adieu  forever  ! 
Dear  cell !  I  shall  weep  thee  and  regret  thee  always." 

But  the  solace  of  even  a  short  sojourn  within 
a  Monastery  was  denied  him  —  the  excommuni 
cated  one.  It  had  been  easy  for  him  to  fling 
defiance  to  the  Church  when  upheld  by  his  sense 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          181 

of  righteousness,  but  now,  no  longer  sinless,  he 
yearned  to  kneel  before  the  altar  and  be  shrived. 
In  the  course  of  his  life  it  had  come  to  him  to 
determine  what  was  the  right  thing  to  do  —  there 
had  never  been  a  question  of  knowing  the  right 
and  not  doing  it.  Now  the  right  path  lay  clearly 
defined,  without  the  slightest  doubt,  yet  it  was 
to  be  a  life  and  death  struggle  to  follow  it.  Dur 
ing  the  past  few  days  he  had  pored  for  hours  at  a 
time  over  the  "  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  reading  again 
and  again  their  denunciations  of  women,  hoping 
to  strengthen  his  purpose  to  prove  that  the  love 
of  woman  could  be  pure.  It  was  his  most  deeply 
cherished  hope  that  his  example  in  taking  a  wife 
like  Matilda  would  lead  to  the  establishment  of 
a  married  clergy.  Up  to  this  moment,  knowing 
the  purity  and  nobility  of  his  motives,  he  had  not 
shrunk  from  the  indignation  of  the  Churchmen 
that  was  sure  to  break  forth  on  his  taking  a 
woman  openly  in  wedlock.  And  now  he  was 
obliged  to  admit  to  himself  that  he  loved  a 
woman  whom  it  would  be  impossible  to  marry. 
Impossible  because  of  his  plighted  troth  to  Ma 
tilda,  but  also  —  and  that  hurt  deeper  —  because 
she  was  surely  no  ideal  priest's  wife.  His  high 
and  mighty  theories  on  the  marriage  of  the  clergy 
must  vanish  into  thin  air  if  he  held  up  Rose  as 


i82  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

a  proper  spouse  for  a  priest  of  God.  Rose  to 
kneel  before  the  leper  and  wash  his  feet !  Rose 
to  enter  the  homes  of  the  afflicted  and  hunger- 
stricken  and  bring  them  comfort!  No,  there  was 
nothing  gained  by  trying  to  shut  his  eyes  to  the 
truth.  He  loved  a  woman  who  could  not  further 
one  strong  hope  of  his  soul,  who  could  not  answer 
to  one  noble  impulse. 

"  Give  not  thy  soul  unto  a  woman,  that  she  should  set  her 
foot  upon  thy  strength." 

But  that  was  precisely  what  he  had  done. 
Every  argument  proved  conclusively  that  he 
never  ought  to  see  Rose  Westel  again.  But  one 
might  as  well  seek  by  argument  to  stop  a  raging 
flood  from  bearing  down  upon  one  as  to  attempt 
to  argue  away  an  emotion.  There  was  no  need 
to  convince  him  that  he  ought  to  hate  the  woman 
who  had  so  suddenly  wrought  ruin  upon  his  most 
cherished  hopes.  A  part  of  him  did  hate  her  — 
the  rest  of  him  adored. 

There  was  prayer  left  to  him.  He  had  tried 
prayer  with  all  the  fervor  of  his  tortured  soul. 
The  night  before,  following  the  advice  of  one  of 
the  Fathers,  he  had  passed  upon  his  knees  reiter 
ating  only  the  one  phrase,  — 

"Deus  meus  et  Omnia." 
"  My  God  and  my  All,  My  God  and  my  All." 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          183 

His  heart  was  overshadowed  by  the  thought 
that  God  had  surely  withdrawn  His  love  from  him 
or  He  could  not  permit  him  to  suffer  so.  Again 
and  again  he  had  flung  himself  on  his  knees  and 
sobbed  out  the  prayer  uttered  by  St.  Augustine 
when  he  was  endeavoring  to  overcome  the  ways 
of  his  youth  :  — 

"Thou,  my  Lord,  how  long  yet?  O  Lord,  how  long  yet 
wilt  thou  be  angry?  How  long?  How  long?  Why  not  in 
this  hour  put  an  end  to  my  shame?  " 

It  was  easy  when  alone  to  ponder  over  such 
words  as  those  of  St.  Jerome :  — 

"  Love  the  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  and  thou  wilt  not 
love  the  lusts  of  the  flesh." 

It  was  easy  to  feel  the  truth  of  St.  Dominic's 
admonition :  — 

"  A  man  who  governs  his  passions  is  master  of  the  world. 
We  must  either  command  them  or  be  enslaved  to  them.  It  is 
better  to  be  the  hammer  than  the  anvil." 

All  very  admirable,  yet  they  were  but  words, 
words,  words.  Excellent  counsellings,  wise  rea 
sonings,  they  were,  but  could  they  master  one 
wild  throb  of  his  veins  leaping  in  her  presence  ? 
Could  they  make  the  vision  of  her  one  whit  less 


1 84  ROBERT  ANNYS  :   POOR  PRIEST 

radiant  and  compelling  ?  Had  he  created  the 
world  ?  Was  it  his  fault  or  the  fault  of  the 
Creator  of  all  things  that  this  great  longing  for 
her  held  him  in  subjection,  and  that  until  that  was 
satisfied  there  was  no  peace  for  him  in  all  the  wide, 
wide  world  ?  The  wildest  thoughts  ran  through 
his  mind  at  times.  It  was  not  too  late,  he  would 
recant,  and  go  back  and  enter  the  Church,  and 
become  a  great  and  powerful  prelate.  He  could 
yet  live  in  a  palace  and  offer  her  a  fitting  setting  for 
her  glorious  beauty.  If  he  closed  his  eyes  he  never 
failed  to  see  himself  in  magnificent  robes  seated  at 
the  centre  of  the  great  table  with  her  at  his  side. 
He  could  see  the  gleam  of  jewels  as  they  rose  and 
fell  on  her  white  bosom ;  he  could  see  the  light  in 
her  eyes  as  she  turned  toward  him ;  he  could  feel 
the  thrill  from  the  touch  of  her  soft  white  hands. 

Yes,  it  was  best  to  go  and  strive  with  all  his 
might  to  forget  Rose  Westel,  and  return  to  the 
Bury  with  his  honor  unstained,  return  to  keep 
his  troth  with  Matilda. 

He  had  promised  to  return  immediately  after 
the  Fair.  This  great  Fair  of  Stourbridge  had 
for  over  a  year  been  looked  to  as  an  important 
meeting  place  before  the  final  rendezvous  at 
Blackheath.  It  lacked  now  but  a  few  days  before 
its  opening,  for  over  a  fortnight  past  it  had  been 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          185 

officially  proclaimed  by  officers  going  about  the 
country  forbidding  any  merchant  to  sell  or  exhibit 
for  sale  any  goods  in  any  place  for  a  distance  of 
seven  leagues  about,  except  inside  the  gates  of 
the  Fair. 

Inside  these  gates  there  would  be  gathered 
people  from  leagues  away  on  every  side.  It  would 
be  a  precious  opportunity,  for  in  no  wise  else  might 
the  people  gather  together  in  great  numbers  with 
out  exciting  suspicion.  Here  at  the  Fair,  under 
the  pretence  of  buying  and  trading,  the  most  im 
portant  conferences  could  take  place,  final  arrange 
ments  for  the  great  gathering  be  talked  over,  and 
the  march  on  to  the  Maidstone  gaol  with  ten 
thousand  of  men  as  Ball  had  foretold  could  be 
planned.  Here  minstrels  could  go  about  sing 
ing  the  songs  that  set  the  blood  of  the  rustics 
a-tingling,  so  that  they  might  be  heartened  for 
the  long  hard  winter  that  yet  lay  before  them. 


186  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XVIII 

THE  morning  of  the  opening  of  the  Fair  found 
Annys,  together  with  hundreds  of  others,  tramping 
along  the  road  to  Stourbridge.  From  the  very 
earliest  sign  of  dawn  the  highway  had  bustled 
with  life.  The  people  poured  in  from  all  sides, — 
from  as  far  north  as  Norwich  and  Kings  Lynn 
and  Marham,  and  from  Colchester  and  Mile  End 
in  the  east,  and  Oxford  in  the  west,  and  Maid- 
stone  and  Tunbridge  and  Guildford  in  the  south, 
and  even  from  the  great  city  of  London  they 
came.  For  weeks  the  whole  southeast  corner  of 
England  had  been  in  a  turmoil  of  preparation. 
The  harbors  of  the  seaport  towns,  Blakeney  and 
Colchester  and  Lynn  and  Norwich,  had  been  filled 
with  foreign  vessels,  swarming  with  swarthy-faced 
sailors  from  the  Mediterranean  and  tow-haired 
sailors  from  the  North  Sea.  All  these  were  doubly 
welcome,  for  not  only  they  brought  trade  to  the 
towns,  but  news,  news  of  far-off  lands  and  far-off 
peoples.  The  relation  of  man  to  man  had  a 
freshness,  a  piquancy  in  those  days,  for  one  told 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          187 

the  other  of  what  was  happening  in  the  world, 
and  so  each  man  was  then  a  bearer  of  news,  and 
not  a  mere  commentator  on  news  already  known. 
Walking  along  the  highway  and  jostling  one 
another,  there  were  to  be  found  belated  mer 
chants,  with  heavy  hearts  hurrying  to  plead  for 
a  place  in  the  Fair ;  bailiffs  bent  on  their  masters' 
business,  securing  more  canvas  or  the  best  mill 
stones  from  the  south  of  France,  or  horses  for 
the  field,  or  any  of  the  thousand  things  that  it 
was  their  duty  to  see  were  on  hand  ;  nobles  them 
selves  travelling  in  great  state  to  select  a  fine  war- 
horse  from  Spain,  or  from  the  same  land  some 
rich,  rare  wine  with  the  sun  taken  prisoner  in  it ; 
some  knight  to  try  curiously  wrought  armor 
from  Milan ;  ladies  on  palfreys  with  their  hearts 
set  on  some  jewels  or  fine  robes ;  monks  telling 
their  beads ;  nuns  with  eyes  modestly  cast  down  ; 
smiths  seeking  for  iron ;  pardoners  and  pedlers 
seeking  for  profit,  acrobats  and  showmen  all  after 
the  careless  penny  of  the  loiterer;  beggars  in 
plenty;  scholars  from  the  Universities;  —  as  the 
poet  sang,  — 

"  All  manner  of  men,  the  mean  and  the  rich,  working  and 
wandering  as  the  world  asketh." 

Once  within  the  gates,  Annys  found   himself 
surrounded    by    a    most    bewildering    Babel,  — 


i88  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

merchants  crying  their  wares,  jugglers  proclaim 
ing  their  feats,  drug-sellers  holding  forth  on  the 
peculiar  virtues  of  their  medicines  and  ointments, 
pardoners  praising  their  charms,  swine  grunting 
disapproval,  horses  neighing  with  impatience,  girls 
exclaiming  "in  delight  and  wonder,  boys  tooting 
tin  horns,  deep  voices,  shrill  voices,  laughs,  sneers, 
jests,  oaths,  upbraidings,  crowing,  gobbling,  stamp 
ing,  halloes,  —  Italian,  Norwegian,  Russian,  Dutch, 
German,  French,  Spanish,  and  English  all  jum 
bled  together.  It  was  enough  to  madden  a  man, 
unless  he  plunged  into  the  immediate  work  of 
making  as  much  noise  as  his  neighbor.  Yet  the 
vast  majority  seemed  in  good  spirits,  and  many 
articles  changed  hands,  and  all  went  merrily 
enough  ;  and  if  some  dispute  did  wax  too  high  for 
comfort,  the  brawlers  were  led  in  a  trice  to  the 
court  of  the  dusty  feet,  where  either  the  dignified 
Mayor  of  Cambridge  or  his  deputy  sat  all  day 
and  all  night,  and  woe  to  the  man  that  thought 
there  was  appeal  from  his  decision. 

Annys  looked  about  him  with  great  interest. 
A  great  cornfield  half  a  mile  square  had  been 
dug  up  and  laid  out  into  streets.  The  owner  of 
the  corn  had  hurried  in  his  harvest  before  the 
last  week  in  August,  for  had  he  been  caught  with 
his  corn  still  on  the  stalk,  the  builder  of  the  booths 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          189 

then  had  the  right  to  destroy  the  corn.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  the  Fair  was  over  it  was  the 
turn  of  the  builder  to  hasten,  for  if  the  booths 
were  not  removed  before  Michaelmas  day,  the 
owner  of  the  soil  had  the  right  to  destroy  them. 
Turn  about  is  fair  play.  The  only  compensation 
which  the  owner  of  the  land  received  for  the  use 
of  his  land  was  its  additional  fertility  after  so 
large  a  concourse  of  persons  had  thronged  there. 
Each  important  trade  had  its  own  street  or 
double  row  of  booths,  with  a  sign  swinging  high 
with  the  name  of  the  street  painted  conspicuously 
upon  it.  As  the  name  was  in  each  case  borrowed 
for  the  occasion  from  some  town  street  where  the 
trade  was  permanently  concentrated,  there  was 
brought  to  the  little  English  village  a  quaint 
flavor  of  cosmopolitanism.  Memories  of  London 
and  Bruges  and  Paris  and  Venice  stirred  in  the 
breeze.  For  a  time  Annys  walked  up  and  down, 
so  much  interested  in  what  he  saw  that  he  neg 
lected  to  look  for  the  signal  with  which  the  mem 
bers  of  the  secret  society  always  greeted  one 
another.  There  was  something  marvellously  ex 
hilarating  to  him  in  this  contact  with  men  from 
all  parts  of  the  world.  Here  was  a  man  who,  but 
a  few  months  ago,  might  have  kneeled  before  the 
throne  of  the  Pope,  and  here  was  another  who 


190  ROBERT   ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

might  have  come  straight  from  the  luxurious  pal 
ace  at  Avignon,  where  the  Anti-pope  held  his 
court.  Here  was  one  whose  ancestors  surely 
saw  the  red  cross  of  the  Crusaders  waving  at 
the  gates  of  Palestine,  and  here  one  who  had 
within  him  the  blood  of  those  hardy  Norsemen 
who  descended  upon  the  English  coast  with  all 
the  fury  and  compelling  force  of  the  fierce  storms 
that  drove  along  their  boats. 

He  walked  through  one  street  after  another, 
never  tiring  of  the  wonderful  sights.  He  stopped 
before  the  booths  and  stood  gaping  like  a  little 
child,  receiving,  however,  scant  enough  encour 
agement  from  the  merchants,  who  would  have 
preferred  to  give  ground  space  to  a  customer 
more  profitable  than  a  poor  priest.  There  were 
streets  where  merchants  with  precious  stocks  of 
Eastern  produce  vied  with  one  another,  Vene 
tians  and  Genoese,  to  attract  the  eye  of  the  con 
noisseur;  others  where  Italian  silks  and  velvets 
tempted  the  rich ;  and  others  yet  where  delicate 
glassware  dazzled  the  eye  with  glints  of  exquisite 
color.  And  still  more  merchants  from  Italy 
showed  spices  as  their  bait,  —  spices  without 
which  no  meal  were  palatable,  —  pepper  and  cinna 
mon,  mace  and  ginger,  cloves,  and  canel,  collected 
in  the  far  East,  and  reaching  the  Mediterranean 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          191 

only  after  a  long  and  tedious  journey.  Then 
there  were  men  from  the  south  of  France,  and 
Greeks  as  well,  with  raisins,  figs,  currants,  galin- 
gale,  almonds,  rice,  and  licorice.  And  there  were 
dates  from  Egypt  and  sugars  from  Sicily  and 
Cyprus  and  Alexandria. 

Gascons  there  were  who  needed  not  their  cele 
brated  wines  to  make  them  expansive  and  good- 
humored  ;  big-boned  men  from  the  Hanseatic 
towns  with  furs  and  amber  beads  and  precious 
stones  from  the  East,  reaching  them  from  Mos 
cow  and  Novgorod ;  and  Flemish  weavers  with 
the  coveted  linens  of  Liege  and  Ghent;  and 
hardy  Norwegians  with  tar  and  pitch  from  their 
unending  forests  of  pine. 

All  this  had  been  brought  to  England's  shores 
in  many  vessels,  reaching  Stourbridge  in  smaller 
boats  by  way  of  the  rivers  Ouse  and  Cam ;  but 
from  England  itself  there  had  come,  first  in  im 
portance,  the  great  wool  packs  that  were  the  envy 
of  other  nations,  and  tin  from  the  mines  of  Corn 
wall,  lead  from  the  mines  of  Derbyshire,  iron  from 
the  forges  of  Sussex,  and,  most  important,  salt 
from  the  springs  of  Worcestershire;  for  woe  to 
the  bailiff  who  fell  short  of  salt  for  his  stock  ! 

How  Annys  revelled  in  all  this  tumult  and 
bustle  of  trade !  The  struggle  which  he  had 


192  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

waged  with  himself  had  drawn  his  thoughts  away 
from  their  usual  current,  but  now  his  heart  within 
him  panted  for  action.  The  longing  for  the 
peace  of  the  monastery  faded  away  utterly,  and 
in  its  place  arose  the  strong  joy  of  living,  of 
fighting,  of  sharing  one's  life  with  a  brother,  and 
of  living  for  that  brother  —  which  was  the  very 
essence  of  his  creed.  He  had  passed  through  an 
evil  nightmare.  He  was  awake  now,  and  he  drew 
deep  breaths  to  know  that  he  was  a  free  man  again ; 
and  now  he  looked  eagerly  about  him  for  a  sign 
of  a  familiar  face,  for  he  could  scarce  wait  until  he 
should  begin  planning  and  discussing  again  the 
details  of  the  great  rendezvous  at  Blackheath. 

Suddenly  he  found  that  it  was  impossible  to 
make  further  headway,  for  the  crowd  pressed  too 
thickly  about  him.  He  allowed  himself  to  be 
pushed  along  until,  by  craning  his  neck,  he  could 
see  what  was  the  cause  of  the  excitement. 

A  man  standing  upon  a  carpeted  platform  was 
vehemently  holding  forth  upon  the  virtues  of  his 
wares.  The  crowd  could  not  catch  all  that  he 
was  saying. 

"Hush!  hush!" 

"  Let  us  hear  what  he  has  to  say !  " 

"  Quiet !  quiet !  " 

"  Here  it  is,  here  it  is,  my  good  fellows,"  the 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          193 

man  was  saying,  in  a  loud,  singsong  voice.  "  Do 
not  lose  this  precious  opportunity  of  protecting 
yourselves  at  a  trifling  cost  against  all  sickness 
and  pestilence.  Look !  you  see  it  is  still  red  and 
flowing,  after  all  these  years,  which  proves  it  is  as 
I  say.  It  can  never  congeal."  And  he  held  high 
above  their  heads,  so  that  all  might  see,  a  small 
vial  with  some  red  fluid  shaking  in  it.  "  This  is 
some  of  the  precious  blood  of  Christ,  caught  while 
it  was  dripping  away  from  Him  on  the  cross. 
Remember,  no  one  can  be  taken  with  the  black 
vomit  while  in  the  possession  of  this  vial." 

A  man  stepped  forward  and  purchased  the 
precious  vial,  not,  however,  without  some  sharp 
haggling  over  its  price. 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  pardoner,  seeing 
that  he  had  attracted  a  sufficient  crowd  about 
him,  "  and  now  do  I  not  see  some  youth  who  has 
loved  more  hotly  than  wisely,  and  who  would  like 
a  charm  to  spare  the  maid  all  pain  ?  Here  is  an 
Agnus  Dei,"  he  cried,  holding  up  a  small  wax 
medal.  "  Remember,  it  will  be  six  years  more 
before  his  most  Holy  Reverence,  the  Pope, 
blesses  a  new  stock ;  remember,  the  possession 
of  this  wipes  away  sin ;  it  protects  one  from  the 
fury  of  winds  and  tempests,  and  one  cannot  be 
hurt  even  by  fire." 


194  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Sell  it  not,  then,  O  monk,  I  beg,"  cried  a 
voice  from  the  crowd,  "  for  it  may  come  of  great 
use  to  you  in  the  future  life." 

The  monk  grinned  in  appreciation  of  the  joke. 
*  But  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  keep  it 
from  yonder  young  man  who  needs  it  so  sorely 
for  his  sweetheart." 

All  eyes  turned  curiously  towards  a  stalwart 
young  fellow  who  was  trying  to  escape  with  a 
buxom  young  woman  clinging  to  his  arm.  It 
was  evident  that  the  monk's  shrewd  eyes  had  read 
the  situation  rightly,  and  as  no  joke  was  too 
coarse  for  a  mediaeval  crowd,  the  merriment  was 
quite  open  and  unconcealed.  The  fellow  looked 
sheepish,  the  girl's  face  was  aflame  and  the  tears 
stood  in  her  eyes,  yet  the  crowd  guffawed  heart 
ily.  "  Remember,"  cried  the  monk  in  one  more 
desperate  attempt,  "  in  accouchement,  mother  and 
infant  both  are  saved,"  but  the  couple  had  suc 
ceeded  in  making  their  escape. 

"  Hold  !  "  exclaimed  a  stout  and  prosperous- 
looking  merchant,  "  must  all  the  world  give  way 
before  lovers  ?  I,  too,  have  my  needs,  for  I  brave 
many  a  tempest  in  the  course  of  my  wanderings." 

"  Ay,"  replied  the  monk,  "  take  it  for  safe  travel, 
and  it  is  well  to  remember  that  it  will  take  a 
certain  temptation  of  the  flesh  away  from  thee, 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          195 

and  the  Lord  knows  there  is  evil  enough  in  the 
world." 

Then  he  singled  out  a  big  bailiff  who  looked  as 
if  he  lived  off  the  fat  of  his  master's  land,  and 
endeavored  to  sell  him  a  scapular  which  if  worn 
over  the  back  and  stomach  insured  perfect  con- 
tinency,  incidentally  at  the  same  time  protecting 
the  wearer  from  all  the  torments  of  Hell,  powers 
of  the  Evil  One,  etc.,  etc.  The  crowd  roared  with 
delight  over  the  discomfiture  of  the  bailiff,  whose 
puffy  cheeks  became  purple  with  anger. 

"  Ho,  ho!"  they  cried,  "  take  it,  Sir  Bailiff,  and 
mend  thy  ways.  'Tis  known  thy  knees  are  already 
worn  with  praying  for  what  the  scapular  will 
accomplish  without  further  effort  on  thy  part." 

"  Here,"  cried  the  bailiff,  throwing  the  monk  a 
coin,  "  enough !  I'll  pay  for  it,  but  it  suits  not 
the  temper  of  my  blood.  Throw  it,  instead,  and 
welcome,  over  the  shoulders  of  yonder  poor  priest 
who  looks  as  if  it  would  not  trouble  him  any  to 
go  without  certain  good  things  of  life." 

The  crowd  turned  about  and  craned  their  necks 
to  have  a  good  look  at  Annys,  who  merely  smiled 
and  suggested  that  it  be  not  wasted  on  one  who 
did  not  need  it.  Then  the  monk  caught  sight  of 
him  for  the  first  time. 

"  Oh,  good  morrow,  'tis  my  famous  pontiff,  good 


196  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

morrow,"  he  cried.  Annys  nodded  shortly  in 
return  to  Stott,  whom  he  had  long  before  recog 
nized,  and  tried  to  pass  on.  He  had  witnessed 
enough  of  the  superstition  and  folly  of  the  people, 
and  his  heart  was  heavy  within  him.  But  Stott 
would  not  have  it  so.  "  Ah,  Sir  Russet-priest," 
he  called  after  him,  "  I  wot  well  you  do  not 
approve  of  all  this,  yet  have  you  it  in  your  heart 
to  turn  away  as  I  am  about  to  offer  my  very 
choicest  treasure  of  all  ?  " 

The  crowd  squeezed  closer  to  the  carpeted  plat 
form,  and  Annys  could  not  have  made  his  way 
through  now  had  he  wished  to.  A  thin,  anxious- 
looking  merchant,  in  his  stall  opposite,  who  had 
come  from  afar  and  saw  that  his  wares  were  not 
going  as  were  the  wares  of  this  pardon-seller, 
looked  on  sadly  and  murmured  impatiently  in  his 
beard  against  all  pardon-sellers  and  humbugs. 

"  Now  give  heed,  dear  people,"  began  Stott 
in  an  unctuous  tone,  and  from  the  manner  in 
which  the  words  rolled  easily  from  his  tongue  it 
was  evident  that  he  had  often  recited  the  story 
before. 

"  Ye  have  all  heard  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  sister 
Jeanne  of  the  Cross  of  the  third  order  of  St.  Francis, 
and  of  her  great  piousness,  and  in  what  great  rever 
ence  she  was  held,  and  how  all  the  birds  flocked  to 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          197 

hear  her  preach,  and  when  she  prayed  the  flowers 
in  the  vases  bowed  at  the  Gloria  Patri." 

How  the  simple  people  delighted  in  those  tales ! 
Indeed,  the  highly  diverting  tales  of  the  saints  and 
the  miracles  that  they  performed  were  to  them 
novels,  dramas,  and  exhortations  all  in  one.  Their 
imaginative  curiosity  was  captivated  at  the  same 
time  that  their  faith  was  strengthened. 

"  Well,  one  day  the  nuns  came  to  her,  who  was 
their  Mother  Superior,  and  begged  her  to  obtain 
the  blessing  of  Jesus  Christ  Himself  for  their  ro 
saries.  So  she  placed  all  that  they  gave  to  her  in 
a  great  casket  which  she  locked  securely,  retain 
ing  the  key  of  it  herself.  The  next  day  all  the 
rosaries  were  gone  and  the  casket  perfectly  empty. 
Then,  while  the  Virgin  remained  on  her  knees 
praying,  the  chapel  was  suddenly  filled  with  the 
most  delicious  and  wonderful  odor,  and  on  going 
to  the  casket  they  found  the  rosaries  again  there." 

A  shiver  of  interest  ran  through  the  audience. 
They  listened  as  children  listen  to  some  delightful 
fairy  tale,  the  more  familiar,  the  more  delightful. 

"  Now  it  is  well  known,"  continued  the  monk, 
"  that  a  very  special  grace  is  attached  to  these  rosa 
ries,  not  only  to  all  the  rosaries  blessed  by  Christ 
Himself,  but  to  each  individual  bead  of  each  rosary." 

Annys  wondered  if  the  fellow  would  have  the 


198  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

effrontery  to  pretend  that  he  had  with  him  one 
of  those  rosaries,  which  were  so  precious  as  to  be 
guarded  night  and  day  in  the  chapel,  as,  indeed,  if 
they  were  stolen  the  principal  source  of  the  mon 
astery's  income  would  go  with  them.  Stott's 
beady  little  eyes  twinkled  as  if  he  read  the 
thought  of  his  critic.  They  seemed  to  say,  "  Not 
so  fast,  Sir  Russet-priest,  wait  a  bit !  " 

"  Now  follow  me  carefully,"  he  went  on ;  "recol 
lect  that  by  the  peculiar  virtues  of  these  beads 
the  same  virtue  passes  out  to  every  bead  that 
touches  one  of  them.  These  rosaries  which  I 
have  here  have  lain  for  one  whole  night  in  the 
casket  with  the  original  beads." 

Annys  could  not  but  laugh  at  the  ingenuity  of 
the  fellow,  and  he  now  passed  slowly  on,  while 
behind  him  he  could  for  some  time  hear  the  harsh, 
monotonous  voice  reciting :  — 

"  It  quiets  storms,  cures  pestilence,  prevents 
temptations  against  the  Faith,  puts  out  flames." 

"  Ha ! "  exclaimed  a  stalwart  smith,  recogniz 
ing  Annys  and  bringing  one  great  hand  down 
on  his  slender  shoulder  so  that  the  young  man 
winced.  "  Ha,  does  it  so  ?  Puts  out  flames  ? 
Then  these  bailiffs  here,  if  they  know  their  busi 
ness,  will  not  lose  a  minute  in  securing  them 
for  their  masters,  and  it  might  be  well  for  every 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         199 

Baron  and  Abbott  in  the  land  to  get  one,  for,  by 
Heaven,  if — " 

The  rest  was  lost  in  Annys's  hand,  which  he 
closed  tightly  over  the  smith's  mouth. 

"  Hist ! "  he  cried  at  the  same  time,  with  a 
warning  gesture. 

"  Oh,  I  am  heartily  sick  of  caution,"  cried  the 
smith,  "  my  hand  itches  for  the  torch.  It  cannot 
be  laid  on  too  soon  for  me." 

"  Nay,"  Annys  exclaimed,  "  the  'torch  would  be 
but  a  poor  friend  indeed.  But  come  where  we 
can  talk  more  privily.  A  little  patience,  my 
friend." 

"  Oh,  patience,  patience,"  cried  the  fellow,  bit 
terly,  but  striding  after  the  poor  priest. 

"  A  pardon,  a  pardon,"  begged  a  poor  woman, 
approaching  Annys  with  outstretched  palm. 

Annys  smiled  and  handed  her  one  which  she 
took  eagerly. 

Later  on,  it  caused  much  discussion,  for  when 
its  Latin  was  translated  it  proved  to  be  no  pardon 
at  all.  He  had  given  her  a  piece  of  paper  on 
which  was  written :  — 

"  Et  qui  bona  egerunt  ibunt  in  vitam  eternam." 

It  looked  proper  enough  and  like  unto  the  usual 
Latin  prayer  that  was  written  on  such  pardons, 


200  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

but  in  plain  English  it  turned  out  to  be  only  a 
homely  piece  of  advice  taken  from  Piers  the 
Ploughman :  — 

"  Those  who  do  well  shall  go  into  everlasting  life." 

These  russet  priests !     There's  no  telling  the 
tricks  they  will  play ! 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          201 


XIX 

THE  two  made  their  way,  not  without  some 
difficulty,  towards  the  part  of  the  fair  grounds 
where  the  sheep  were  for  sale.  This  was  the 
spot  selected  by  the  leaders  of  the  rebellion. 
Merchants  and  chapmen  on  all  sides  of  them 
were  shouting  encouragement  for  the  passers-by 
to  stop  and  purchase  of  them. 

"  Wimples,  wimples  !  Sure  'tis  not  in  thy  heart 
to  refuse  thy  lass  to  bind  up  her  pretty  hair  with 
one  of  these." 

"  Girdles !  here  they  are,  silver  and  gold  of  the 
finest." 

"  Crosses,  crosses,  jewelled,  inlaid,  carved  ivory 
crucifixes.  Here  is  a  glowing  gem  for  my  lady's 
prie-dieux." 

"  Here,  Sir  Knight,  give  this  altar  cloth  to  Holy 
Church  and  receive  many  days'  grace  for  it  —  one 
day  for  each  thread  in  this  golden  fringe." 

"  Furs,  furs,  the  cold  winter  will  soon  be  upon 
us.  Overlook  not  my  choice  stock  of  ermines 
and  beaver." 


202  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"Faugh!"  cried  a  man  passing  by.  "'Cold 
winter,'  indeed;  one  would  think  to  hear  these 
fellows  that  the  aim  of  the  great  folks  is  to  keep 
warm  with  the  fur  they  pile  upon  their  garments." 

"  Well,  mayhap  they  try  to  keep  warm  the 
ground,"  joined  in  another,  "for  they  do  stick 
their  furs  about  the  tails  of  their  gowns  instead 
of  about  their  necks  and  wrists,  where  there  would 
be  some  sense  to  it." 

"  Talking  of  tails,"  grinned  a  man  who  was  a 
tailor  by  trade,  "  why,  it  will  come  about  shortly 
that  no  workshop  in  all  the  land  will  be  large 
enough  to  cut  out  a  fine  robe  if  the  trains  grow 
much  longer.  We  shall  all  of  us  have  to  take 
to  the  fields  to  cut  out  our  gowns." 

"  Indeed,"  said  another,  "  I  cannot  for  the  life 
of  me  see  any  reason  for  the  wearing  of  fur  save  it 
is  as  a  hiding-place  for  fleas." 

"  There  you  are  in  error,"  retorted  the  tailor, 
who  was  also  a  bit  of  a  philosopher ;  "  you  forget 
that  it  is  forbidden  by  law  to  all  but  the  great 
folk  to  wear  fur,  ergo  do  not  say  that  it  hath  no 
uses.  Remember  an  article  is  prized  just  so  far 
as  it  is  difficult  for  others  to  get  it." 

The  voices  of  the  merchants,  always  persuasive, 
continued  to  reach  Annys  and  his  companion. 
"  Here  you  are,  my  beauties.  Don't  pass  by. 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          203 

Here  is  the  famous  recipe  to  keep  the  skin  ever 
white  and  smooth,  of  sweet  almonds  blanched,  of 
gum  dragant  and  of  gum  arabic,  of  the  flower  of 
beans,  of  the  root  of  the  fleur-de-lis,  of  dried  fish 
glue-" 

"  Give  not  away  all  thy  secrets,  fellow,"  inter 
rupted  a  passer-by,  with  a  laugh ;  "  we  can  all  go 
home  and  make  up  thy  recipe  for  ourselves." 

"  Ah,  but  you  will  not  know  the  correct  pro 
portions,  and  without  that  the  virtue  of  the  com 
pound  is  not  there,"  replied  the  man,  no  whit 
disconcerted. 

"  Ointments,  ointments,  rare  and  precious  oint 
ments,"  cried  a  rival,  "  musks,  vermillion  lip  salves, 
clothes  of  pure  scarlet  dye  to  keep  the  cheeks  ever 
young.  Ah,  lass,  just  approach  here  and  see  if  a 
touch  of  this  on  thy  cheeks  does  not  make  thy 
fellow  come  hurrying  back  to  thee." 

"  Waters  of  daffodils,"  from  the  other  side. 

"  Grape  juice  and  tarragon  mixed,  sweet  waters 
of  oranges,  roses,  jessamine,"  flung  back  from 
opposite. 

And  at  last  they  heard  about  them  the  kind  of  talk 
that  showed  they  had  reached  their  destination. 

"  Nay,  I  have  rubbed  my  fingers  off  me  and  the 
skin  yet  keeps  pale.  I  tell  ye  'tis  rotten,  and  I'll 
none  of  it." 


204  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Why,  man,  look  you,  pull  on  that  wool,  and 
you  could  not  tear  it,  had  you  the  strength  of 
Hercules." 

"  If  the  hoar  frost  of  the  morning  melt  on  the 
wool,  be  sure  there  is  an  unnatural  heat  some 
where." 

"  I  tell  you  the  veins  under  the  eyes  are  white. 
Do  you  need  further  proof  ?  " 

"  And  I  tell  thee  a  ruby  could  not  be  redder." 

Yet  with  all  the  talk  going  on  about  them 
of  sheep  and  their  distempers,  men  nevertheless 
found  opportunity  to  greet  one  another  with  the 
secret  signal  which  showed  that  they  were  mem 
bers  of  the  Great  Society. 

"  June  the  twelfth,  then  ?  " 

"  So  long  ?  " 

"  Plenty  to  do  'twixt  now  and  then." 

"Hush!" 

"  A  nd  I  tell  thee  what  to  do  with  a  sheep  that  dies." 

"  The  whole  country  is  to  rise.  There  will  not 
remain  one  man  at  the  plough  —  as  I  was  saying, 
soak  the  flesh  well  in  water  and  keep  it  there  from 
daybreak  till  nones,  and  —  " 

"  Wot  ye,  whether  the  men  of  Hertforshire  are 
with  us  ?  " 

"  And  keep  it  and  drain  it  thoroughly  and  salt 
it  and  dry  it,  and  it  will  do  for  your  laborers." 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          205 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  " 

"  Yea,  there  be  not  one  man  who  is  not  ready 
to  join  in  the  march." 

"  And  if  there  be  one  unready,  we  know  an 
argument  or  two  that  will  bring  him  around." 

"  Here  be  Robert  Annys  and  Jack  the  smith." 

The  greetings  exchanged  were  hearty. 

The  men  spoke  cautiously  among  themselves, 
every  now  and  then  interjecting  some  talk  of 
sheep  into  their  conversation  when  one  ap 
proached  who  did  not  give  the  signal. 

"  I  tell  you,  from  Lincolnshire  to  Sussex  the  coun 
try  is  like  dry  timber  ready  to  ignite  at  a  spark." 

"  Ay,  come  next  Whitsunday,  please  God,  the 
lords  will  know  who  are  the  real  masters." 

"  The  land  will  not  groan  under  so  many  sher 
iffs." 

"  And  not  so  many  lawyers  will  cumber  the 
ground." 

"  Ah,  my  men,  have  a  care,  have  a  care,"  broke 
in  Annys,  "lest  they  do  say  with  reason  that 
we  are  but  ne'er-do-wells  grasping  for  power.  If 
envy  and  greed  are  thought  to  be  prodding  us 
on,  our  cause  is  as  good  as  lost." 

"  Well,  they  have  had  their  day  long  enough," 
grumbled  the  sturdy  smith. 


206  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Wat  the  cobbler,  ever  ready  to  make  the  peace, 
now  joined  in.  "  Hast  got  big  Ben  and  his  men 
to  join  us  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  smith. 

"  Well,"  was  the  answer,  "  I  left  him  swaying 
this  way  and  that  like  a  tree  that  yet  needs  the 
last  stroke  to  fall." 

"  Let  us  look  to  it,  then,  that  the  last  stroke  be 
not  put  in  by  the  other  side,"  was  the  ready  reply. 

"  Who  will  go  to  Kent  and  see  that  all  is  in 
readiness  for  the  march  on  the  gaol?  There 
must  be  no  half-hearted  ones  there." 

"  To  go  to  Kent  now  is  to  clap  one's  head  into 
the  Archbishop's  noose,"  replied  a  Kentish  man. 
"  Ball's  boast  that  he  would  be  set  free  by  hun 
dreds  of  men  marching  from  afar  hath  made  even 
the  sheriffs  look  alive." 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Annys,  quietly. 

"  No  russet  priest  may  show  his  face  near  Can 
terbury." 

"  Then  shall  I  go  disguised  as  a  minstrel,  and 
men  shall  know  me  by  my  songs." 

"  And  get  a  broken  pate  for  thy  pains,"  said  a 
disgruntled  minstrel,  who  well  knew  of  what  he 
spoke. 

"  Oh,  the  cause  must  not  suffer  for  want  of  a 
broken  pate  or  two,"  replied  Annys,  merrily. 
But  the  truth  was  he  really  welcomed  the  oppor- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          207 

tunity  with  all  his  heart.  He  wanted  work, 
and  work  with  the  zest  of  danger  in  it  was  all 
the  better.  He  wanted  some  absorbing  task, 
some  task  that  would  claim  his  whole  mind 
and  soul,  that  would  shut  out  from  him  the 
terrible  struggle  that  he  had  been  waging  for 
the  past  few  days. 

When  he  left  the  Fair  with  all  the  details 
arranged  to  slip  off  secretly  to  Kent,  he  held  his 
head  higher  than  he  had  done  for  many  a  day. 
Now  he  was  a  man  again,  now  he  had  cast  off 
that  evil  self,  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  for 
his  fellow-men,  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for  them 
if  need  be.  Work,  work,  work  —  that  was  man's 
salvation  from  temptation  ;  not  physical  torture 
and  isolation,  but  work  that  meant  a  flinging  of 
the  whole  being  into  some  great  interest,  swallow 
ing  up  every  thought  unconnected  with  it.  As 
he  walked  rapidly  along,  that  Robert  Annys  who 
had  permitted  himself  to  become  so  harassed  by 
a  passing  lovesickness  seemed  like  some  other 
man.  Surely  it  could  not  have  been  he,  Robert 
Annys,  Saviour  of  the  Oppressed,  Leader  of  the 
Downtrodden  People,  Teacher  of  the  Peasants, 
Prophet  of  the  New  Era ! 

The  Devil  likes  nothing  better  than  a  cock-sure 
opponent. 


2o8  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

That  moment,  as  he  entered  an  unfrequented 
lane,  with  his  heart  beating  high  with  the  exal 
tation  of  his  dangerous  mission,  with  his  whole 
soul  uplifted  in  the  thought  that  he  was  hold 
ing  men's  destinies  in  his  hands,  he  saw  Rose 
sitting  alone.  His  heart  gave  a  great  leap  within 
him,  nevertheless  he  passed  on,  pretending  not  to 
see  her. 

Rose  grimaced.  She  sent  a  slipper  after  him, 
hitting  him  full  between  the  shoulders. 

"  Is  that  cousinly  ? "  she  cried,  in  her  teasing 
way.  He  paused,  trembling,  yet  able  to  keep  his 
face  turned  from  her. 

"  Cousin  !  Cousin  !  Cousin  !  "  mocked  the  low 
voice.  He  turned.  He  looked  at  her,  and  sud 
denly  a  great  wave  arose  within  him  and  engulfed 
the  Great  Uprising,  the  Secret  Society,  the  Res 
cue,  the  Gathering  at  Blackheath  —  all  —  all  save 
just  one  maid  and  she  before  him. 

The  hoarse  voices  of  the  men  behind,  the  noises 
of  the  Fair,  smote  upon  him,  yet  nothing  seemed 
real  save  Rose,  sitting  there  with  a  splendid,  vivid 
sense  of  life  pulsating  through  her,  the  shadow  of 
her  long  lashes  resting  on  her  cheeks. 

"  Cousin  indeed ! "  he  said,  with  a  sob  in  his 
voice,  "  thou  knowest  well  that  can  never  be !  " 

He  clasped  both  her  hands  in  his. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          209 

"  I  sought  to  flee  thee,"  he  said,  with  a  strange 
directness. 

She  smiled  and  tried  to  withdraw  her  hands. 
But  he  would  not  relinquish  them  and  held  them 
fast. 

"  But  I  will  not  flee  thee  now,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  have  done  with  struggling.  It  is  useless." 

"  Nay,"  he  added,  with  the  superb  assurance  of 
all  lovers  to  whom  eternity  is  but  a  passing 
breath, "  I  shall  never  leave  thee  more." 

Rose  was  not  accustomed  to  analyze  her  feel 
ings.  She  acted  first  and  thought  afterward  — 
if  at  all,  which  was  doubtful.  But  she  was 
puzzled  at  her  conflicting  emotions  as  she  sat 
there  thrilling  to  the  passion  in  his  eyes.  Her 
whole  body  throbbed  and  trembled  in  unison  with 
his  bounding  pulses.  She  wanted  to  dismiss  him 
with  a  scolding  for  his  faithlessness  to  dear  little 
Matilda.  And  she  wanted  to  tell  him  that  she 
was  in  love  with  another.  Surely  all  men  save 
the  Baron  were  indifferent  to  her!  Indeed,  she 
had  been  dreaming  of  de  Leaufort  just  before  this 
impertinent  poor  priest  had  come  and  disturbed 
her.  She  had  closed  her  eyes  and  felt  distinctly 
the  Baron's  soft  beard  brush  her  cheeks;  some 
faint,  elusive  perfume  that  tantalized  her  memory 
had  entered  into  her  senses ;  she  had  sunk  into 


3io  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR    PRIEST 

a  delicious  revery  that  almost  approached  a 
swoon.  She  was  in  a  dangerously  emotional 
mood.  There  is  an  early  stage  in  the  love  affairs 
of  an  emotional  woman  when  she  is  in  love,  as  has 
before  been  said,  not  as  she  thinks,  with  a  certain 
man,  but  with  the  powerful  emotions  which  he 
can  arouse.  And,  it  may  be  added,  at  such  a 
stage  to  dream  of  her  lover  is  not,  as  she  fondly 
believes,  to  harden  herself  against  all  other 
comers,  but  on  the  contrary  it  is  to  break  down 
all  the  barriers  before  them.  The  wise  rival  is 
he  who  knows  how  to  seize  upon  the  psychologi 
cal  moment  and  urge  his  suit  in  no  faint-hearted 
manner.  Later  on  there  will  come  the  time  when 
every  line  of  the  chosen  one's  countenance,  every 
trick  of  manner  and  speech,  have  entered  into 
the  very  warp  and  woof  of  her  love.  Then  stand 
off,  it  is  too  late  !  The  image  on  the  sensitive 
plate  of  the  heart  is  fixed,  no  longer  is  it  a  vague 
shadow,  easily  blurred  or  superseded ! 

They  said  nothing.  There  was  no  need  of 
speech.  Speech  after  all  is  needed  only  for  those 
poor  mortals  whose  feet  rest  on  the  earth.  There 
is  an  eloquent,  tumultuous  speech  of  lovers  which 
is  felt,  not  heard.  Their  palms  beat  wildly  one 
into  the  other,  their  lips  grew  dry,  they  drew 
long,  deep,  quivering  breaths. 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          211 

Then,  when  he  kissed  her  full  red  lips,  —  the 
first  time  he  had  kissed  a  woman's  lips,  —  it  came 
over  him  that  this  exquisite  creature  was  no  com 
panion  for  a  poor  russet  priest. 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips.  "  How  came 
you  to  love  a  poor  priest ! "  he  exclaimed,  won 
dering. 

"  I  love  the  Bishop  in  you,"  she  answered, 
laughing. 

"  Ah,  'tis  a  long  way  from  an  excommunicated 
poor  priest  to  a  Bishop." 

"  Nay,"  she  pouted,  "  I  shall  have  a  palace." 

He  thought  her  beauty  worthy  of  a  king,  and 
told  her  so. - 

"  Then  make  me  a  queen ! "  she  cried  impu 
dently.  "  Yea,  a  great  lady,  a  great  prelate's  lady. 
I  can  adorn  a  palace,  think  you,  then  a  palace,  a 
palace  give  me  !  " 

He  tried  to  take  her  in  fun :  "  Ay,  a  palace,  a 
palace.  They  grow  in  the  fields  —  pick  me  one  !  " 

"  Laugh  not,  I  mean  a  real  palace  of  stone. 
Look  not  so  dazed.  Was  not  the  Archdeacon- 
ate  of  Ely  offered  you  ?  You  shall  yet  have  a 
Bishopric." 

"  But  that  was  long  ago !  " 

"  Humph !  '  long  ago,'  and  will  not  the  Church 
be  gladder  than  ever  to  take  back  the  poor  priest 


212  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

who   can    hold   so   many  men  from   the   Upris 


ing.' 


What  was  all  this  ?  It  was  madness.  He  had 
given  himself  to  the  people,  he  could  never  recant. 

She  kissed  his  hands. 

"  These  fingers  will  yet  hold  a  Bishop's  staff," 
she  said.  Her  beauty  was  maddening.  He  would 
not  think  of  the  future.  He  gave  himself  up  to 
the  present.  The  breath  from  her  lips  shook 
him  to  the  very  core  of  his  being.  He  rained 
kisses  on  her  passionately — on  hair,  cheeks,  eyes, 
and  lips;  and  for  all  that  there  was  a  certain 
fierceness  in  his  caresses,  she  was  unafraid  and 
well  content  to  have  it  so. 

Suddenly  a  jeering  laugh  rang  through  the 
air:  — 

"  Ha,  ha,  Sir  Russet-priest,  so  this  is  the  way 
you  follow  the  call  of  your  dear  Master,  Jesus 
Christ !  '  Wheresoever  my  Master  calls  me,'  I 
think  you  said  to  me.  Ho,  ho,  odsooks !  did  the 
good  Lord  graciously  call  me  into  so  fair  a  place, 
I  doubt  not  I  should  go  even  as  willingly."  The 
two  sprang  apart  and  saw  the  evil  face  of  Hugo 
Stott  leering  at  them.  Rose  was  frankly  fright 
ened  and  turned  again  and  clung  to  Annys,  whose 
first  impulse  was  such  as  any  man  would  feel,  to 
strike  the  impudent  fellow  to  the  ground.  But  an 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         213 

uncomfortable  trick  had  grown  upon  him  of  re 
calling  certain  bits  of  the  Gospel  at  all  moments 
of  excitement,  and  the  particular  lines  that  now 
rang  through  his  brain  had  in  them  an  apposite- 
ness  that  staid  his  hand :  — 

"  If  thou  give  fully  to  thy  soul  the  delight  of  her  desire,  she 
will  make  thee  the  laughing-stock  of  thine  enemies." 

Indeed,  it  had  come.  Already  he  was  the 
laughing-stock  of  his  enemy.  He  was  degraded 
before  the  very  scum  of  the  earth.  He  had 
brought  the  name  of  his  beloved  Lord  on  the 
lips  of  a  sneering  pardon-seller.  He  was  held  up, 
a  self-convicted  hypocrite,  before  the  very  prince 
of  hypocrites.  What  could  he  say  for  himself? 
What  could  he  plead?  Nothing,  save  that  he 
was  in  the  grasp  of  the  same  terrible  power  that 
had  brought  ruin  to  hundreds  before  him.  Ah ! 
but  stay,  he  had  done  wrong,  great  wrong;  he 
had  sinned  grievously,  yet  by  some  miraculous 
interposition  of  the  Lord  he  had  been  drawn 
back  from  the  last  step  that  would  have  cast  him 
into  the  pit  of  hell.  He  had  been  saved.  And 
by  what  a  hand !  Yet,  although  it  had  pleased 
Heaven  to  send  a  strange  instrument  of  salvation, 
nevertheless,  he  must  render  due  thanks  to  his 
deliverer.  So,  to  Stott's  utter  surprise,  instead  of 


214  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

felling  him  to  the  earth,  Annys  flung  off  the  girl 
and  extended  his  hand  humbly  to  him. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  contritely.  "  Thou  hast 
snatched  me  from  the  jaws  of  hell." 

Stott  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes,  for  he  was 
but  too  ready  to  believe  that  Robert  Annys  was 
as  the  usual  run  of  the  priests  he  encountered, 
ever  ready  to  preach,  but  not  so  ready  to  practise. 

In  the  sudden  religious  exaltation  that  swept 
over  him  Annys  was  totally  unconscious  of  his 
cruelty  toward  the  woman  whom  he  had  just 
clasped  in  his  arms.  He  could  think  only  of  his 
own  wonderful  escape.  Rose  rested  on  the  ground 
as  she  had  been  flung,  half  reclining,  half  kneel 
ing,  dazed  at  the  sudden  change  that  had  come 
over  the  ardent  lover  of  a  minute  before.  The 
uppermost  thought  in  her  mind  was  how  hand 
some  he  looked  in  his  new-found  indignation. 
His  eyes,  at  other  times  the  pale  blue  eyes  of  a 
dreamer,  now  scintillated  as  the  dark  blue  night 
sky,  when  the  air  is  crisp  and  clear  and  thrilling 
with  the  glory  of  the  stars.  Deep  down  within 
her  lay  a  discontent  that  all  his  passion  for  her 
had  awakened  in  his  eyes  no  such  splendor.  She 
longed  to  be  able  to  awaken  that  light  in  his  eyes 
purely  for  herself  alone ;  she  was  fascinated  by 
the  peculiar  change  it  wrought  in  his  face ;  she 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         215 

found  a  certain  pleasure  in  watching  him  imper 
sonally,  quite  as  if  the  object  of  his  indignation 
were  some  one  else  and  not  herself  at  all. 

As  he  drew  himself  up  and  looked  down  upon 
the  girl,  her  beauty  seemed  to  him  surely  of  the 
Evil  One.  There  rushed  over  him  a  horror  that 
he  could  have  succumbed  so  easily  to  the  tempta 
tion  that  befalls  every  anchorite.  What  ?  was  it 
possible  that  he,  Robert  Annys,  had  been  ready 
but  an  instant  ago  to  deny  his  people,  to  draw 
them  from  their  most  sacred  cause,  ready  to  de 
sert  the  great-hearted  leader  to  whom  he  had 
sworn  lealty,  all  for  this  woman  before  him  ? 
Could  one  fall  lower  than  this  ?  He  had  beeri 
all  too  willing  to  trail  the  fair  robes  of  the  Holy 
Spouse  in  the  dust  to  keep  this  creature  by  his 
side.  He  had  listened  to  her  pleadings  to  make 
himself  a  great  prelate  solely  that  he  might  twine 
golden  chains  in  her  locks;  he  to  set  yet  another 
example  before  the  people  of  rapacity  and  sensu 
ality  within  the  Church,  and  thereby  discourage 
by  so  much  every  honest  reformer !  God  !  what 
wonder  that  he  took  it  all  as  a  manifestation  of 
the  powers  of  the  Evil  One  ?  If  a  mage  had 
appeared  unto  him  and  showed  him  a  magnet 
which  drew  to  it  all  the  trees  of  the  forest,  one  by 
one,  until  they  all  lay  upturned  and  useless,  with 


216  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

great  gaping  wounds  in  the  earth,  where,  but  a 
moment  before,  they  had  risen  proudly,  would  he 
not  have  declared  him  a  sorcerer,  and  taken  him 
to  some  holy  man  to  have  him  purged  of  his 
devil  ?  or  had  him  burned  publicly  at  the  stake  ? 
And  what  else  but  some  evil  sorcery  could  draw 
a  man  from  the  place  where  he  had  been  rooted 
deep  down,  could  sever  his  heart  at  a  blow  from 
all  the  things  that  he  held  sacred,  and  could  leave 
him  prostrate  and  useless,  a  cause  of  stumbling 
to  the  wayfarer  ? 

He  had  been  saved  at  the  eleventh  hour  by 
divine  interposition.  His  soul  quivered  with  joy 
at  again  being  accepted  of  the  Lord.  He  raided 
his  crucifix  high  over  the  crouching  figure  of  the 
girl,  and,  after  crossing  himself  on  the  breast  and 
shoulders,  he  launched  forth  the  terrible  words  of 
exorcism :  — 

"  Satan,  enemy  of  the  Faith,  enemy  of  the 
human  race,  who  brought  Death  into  the  world, 
who  has  rebelled  against  all  justice,  seducer  of 
man,  root  of  all  evil,  promoter  of  all  vices,  come 
out,  come  out,  I  command  you,  from  the  body 
of  this  woman.  Come  forth,  come  forth,  I  com 
mand  you,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost." 

At   last   Rose   awoke   to  the  situation.      Her 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          217 

amused  incredulity  of  the  whole  strange  scene 
now  gave  way  to  a  furious  anger  that  he  could 
dare  so  to  humiliate  her.  That  comes  of  permit 
ting  a  priest  to  make  love  to  you  —  you  never 
know  when  the  saint  will  conquer  the  mere  man. 
And  there  he  stood  in  such  immaculateness,  his 
robes  gathered  about  him,  his  form  drawn  up  as 
if  there  were  contamination  in  her  very  touch. 
There  he  stood,  clasping  that  crucifix  as  if  the 
Lord  on  it  were  his  own  special  protector.  Why 
didn't  he  go  and  have  done  with  it  ?  If  he  was 
remorseful,  so  was  she ;  she  never  wanted  to  see 
his  sanctimonious  face  again.  And  there  was 
that  horrid  knob-nosed  pardoner  looking  on ! 
How  dared  he  !  how  dared  he  !  She  would  reply 
to  him,  she  would  shame  him  for  his  cowardice, 
she  would  —  What  she  did  do  was  to  throw  her 
self  face  downward  on  the  ground,  shedding  tears 
of  exasperation  and  impotent  rage.  Annys,  tak 
ing  this,  very  naturally,  for  a  sign  of  penitence, 
thought  that  his  exorcism  had  had  effect,  and 
strode  off  well  satisfied,  leaving  the  pardoner  to 
gloat  over  the  beauty  of  the  girl  with  whom  he  so 
strangely  and  unexpectedly  found  himself  alone. 
For  an  instant  he  watched  the  departing  figure 
of  the  young  priest  with  jaw  dropped  in  astonish 
ment.  Could  it  all  have  been  a  magnificent  piece 


2i8  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

of  acting  ?  No,  it  was  impossible  ;  even  to  such 
a  cynic  as  Hugo  Stott,  it  was  evident  that  the 
man  had  been  thoroughly  in  earnest.  He  looked 
at  the  girl  and  his  eyes  glistened.  He  tiptoed 
up  to  her. 

"  The  devil  or  no  devil,  'tis  a  delicate  morsel. 
I  fear  not  the  devil,  nor  anything  else  when  'tis 
so  well  disguised." 

He  would  have  liked  to  bury  his  ugly  face  in 
her  white  neck,  but,  even  as  he  approached  her, 
she  turned  suddenly  and  screamed  so  loud  that 
instantly  a  number  of  men  rushed  from  the  fair 
grounds.  They  could  only  swear  roundly  at  the 
disappearing  figure  of  the  pardoner,  who  had  lost 
no  time  in  making  off  as  quickly  as  his  long  gown 
and  clumsy  form  would  permit. 

The  sight  of  Rose,  pale  and  trembling,  and  the 
obvious  inference  of  what  might  have  happened 
had  they  been  less  prompt,  did  not  tend  to  make 
them  waste  any  love  on  monks  and  pardoners. 
Little  enough  love  wasted  already ! 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         219 


XX 

ANNYS  no  longer  had  the  strength  to  continue 
on  his  journey  into  Kent.  That  night  he  spent  in 
alternately  praying  upon  his  knees  and  pacing  up 
and  down  in  anguish  of  spirit.  Although  a  child 
of  Mediaevalism,  and  more  or  less  heir  to  the 
Mediaeval  ideas  and  superstitions,  yet  there  was 
much  within  him  that  was  in  advance  of  his  age. 
He  could  not  take  comfort  in  the  current  concep 
tion  of  the  nature  of  woman.  His  dearly  cherished 
views  on  the  marriage  of  the  clergy,  his  pro 
found  hope  that  the  love  of  woman  would  be  lifted 
from  the  base,  animal  view  that  obtained  in  the 
morbid  fancy  of  the  followers  of  Mani,  —  all  went 
to  arouse  within  him  a  trust  and  belief  in  woman 
hood  which  chafed  at  his  contemptible  action  in 
throwing  all  the  blame  upon  Rose.  Often  in  the 
past  had  he  been  overwhelmed  with  shame  as  he 
read  the  cynical  confessions  of  priest  after  priest 
and  saint  after  saint,  wherein  all  the  weakness  of 
the  man  had  been  laid  on  the  ofttimes  innocent 
shoulders  of  the  woman.  He  always  had  had  a 


220  ROBERT   ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

contempt  for  the  horrible  selfishness  that  could 
permit  a  saint  to  sin  with  a  woman,  and  then  in  a 
fit  of  repentance  mount  to  heaven  with  beatific 
grace  while  at  the  same  instant  with  perfect  equa 
nimity  he  sees  the  woman  sink  into  the  awaiting 
fires  of  hell. 

And  then  there  came  swiftly  upon  him  the 
recollection  that  the  practical  outcome  of  his  sud 
den  pious  exaltation  had  been  to  leave  a  beautiful 
and  helpless  girl  at  the  mercy  of  an  unscrupulous 
man  like  Stott.  In  that  thought  lay  a  strong 
agony  that  was  not  entirely  spiritual.  Enraged 
both  at  himself  and  the  pardoner,  he  would  gladly 
have  strangled  the  fellow,  had  he  but  come  upon 
him  at  that  instant. 

The  slow-footed  dawn  came  and  found  him 
worn  and  discouraged.  He  was  utterly  unfit  to 
go  upon  his  mission  to  Kent.  The  joy  of  help 
ing  others  should  be  vouchsafed  only  to  such  as 
first  can  help  themselves.  He,  forsooth,  a  leader 
of  other  men !  No  longer  could  he  lead  himself. 
He  was  but  a  broken  reed.  The  calm  shelter  of 
the  Abbey  appealed  to  him  with  renewed  insist 
ence.  He  could  close  his  eyes  and  instantly  the 
chapel  with  its  dim  religious  light  was  before  him. 
He  could  see  the  dark,  cowled  figures  of  the 
monks  passing  in  noiselessly,  he  could  see  their 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          22 1 

bowed  heads  as  they  devoutly  worshipped.  The 
beautiful  chanted  responses,  the  sombre  throb  of 
the  organ,  shook  him  to  the  very  soul. 

So  he  went  to  Matilda  and  told  her  that  he  was 
about  to  ask  to  be  taken  back  into  the  Church, 
in  order  to  have  a  brief  respite  in  a  holy  retreat. 

"  I  have  chosen  to  go,  not  to  St.  Edmund's,  but 
St.  Dunstan's,  ten  miles  on. 

"  I  am  all  at  sea,"  he  added  pathetically, "  adrift 
and  helpless.  Perhaps  I  have  been  too  stiff- 
necked.  Perhaps  God  hath  punished  me  for 
concerning  myself  too  much  with  things  tem 
poral.  Perhaps  after  all  the  Church  is  right  in 
that  the  mission  on  earth  of  the  priestly  office  is 
not  to  make  earth  a  better  abiding-place,  but  so 
to  lift  up  the  minds  of  men,  so  to  fill  their  hearts 
with  thoughts  of  the  life  hereafter,  that  the  ills  of 
this  life  sink  into  utter  insignificance." 

Some  of  his  old-time  arguments  against  that 
false  conception  of  Christianity  rose  to  her  lips 
in  reply.  The  very  words  that  he  had  spoken  to 
her  again  and  again  she  longed  to  speak,  and  yet 
a  certain  pride  held  her  silent.  She  could  not 
bear  to  have  him  think  she  was  pleading  for  her 
self.  Of  course  he  could  not  marry  her  if  he 
entered  again  into  the  Church,  and  yet  she  would 
not  have  been  human  had  there  been  no  comfort 


222  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

in  the  thought  that  neither  could  he  marry  any 
other  woman.  For,  with  the  quick  intuition  of  a 
woman  who  loves,  she  had  read  the  secret  that 
was  torturing  him.  There  had  been  moments 
when  she  had  been  tempted  to  give  him  his  free 
dom  and  permit  him  to  wed  her  cousin.  But  she 
read  his  heart  too  profoundly  to  believe  that 
he  could  ever  look  on  Rose  as  a  poor  priest's 
wife.  He  was  wrestling  with  the  Evil  One,  and 
it  was  her  part  only  to  pray  for  him,  which  she 
did  with  all  the  strength  and  fervor  of  her  pure 
soul. 

He  looked  down  on  her,  and  he  thought  his 
heart  would  break  within  him  as  he  realized  how 
strongly  he  yearned,  really  yearned,  to  love  this 
dear,  sweet  woman,  and  how  utterly  impossible  it 
was  for  her  frank,  pure  eyes  to  quicken  one  beat 
of  his  pulse.  For  he  had  learned  something,  and 
he  knew  now  that  men  did  not  love  merely  with 
their  minds  and  souls.  He  knew  now  that,  save 
he  loved  with  every  drop  in  his  veins  and  every 
nerve  in  his  body,  it  was  not  what  men  called 
love.  He  took  her  firm,  strong  hand  in  his,  and 
readily  would  he  have  cut  his  own  from  his  arm 
could  he  have  felt  shoot  through  him  the  exquisite 
bounding  of  the  pulses  that  would  come  even  from 
the  faintest  touch  of  Rose's  hand.  What  was 


A  TALE  OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         223 

this  marvellous  emotion  that  comes  not  and  goes 
not  as  a  man  wills  it  ? 

He  saw  with  a  tightening  of  his  heart-strings 
that  Matilda  looked  wan,  as  if  she,  too,  had  lost 
much  sleep.  Yes,  she  was  very  dear  to  him,  and 
to  see  her  unhappy  distressed  him  keenly.  To 
bid  farewell  to  her  was  like  bidding  farewell  to  a 
part  of  himself,  so  fully  had  she  entered  into  his 
life.  Yet  he,  himself,  had  paled  those  cheeks  and 
drawn  those  new,  strange  lines  about  her  mouth. 
Had  another  man  done  this,  gladly  would  he  have 
beaten  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life.  Ah,  how 
had  he  justified  the  noble  trust  which  that  great 
hearted  lad  had  given  him?  How  could  he  ever 
look  Richard  Meryl  in  the  face  again?  O  that 
he  had  never  entered  into  their  lives,  or  at  least 
not  until  they  had  been  united.  What  a  friend, 
what  a  sister,  he  had  lost !  A  low  moan  broke 
from  him  and  a  shudder  that  seemed  to  break  his 
frame  in  two. 

She  forgot  her  wrongs,  and  pitied  him.  "  God 
speed  thee,  and  bring  thee  back  stronger  than 
ever  for  the  needed  work." 

"  Ay,  pray  for  me  !  "  he  said,  "  I  need  thy  prayers 
sorely." 

As  he  walked  along  the  woods,  and  drew  nearer 
to  the  Abbey,  he  grew  more  at  peace  with  himself. 


224  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR  PRIEST 

Already  the  touch  of  the  holy  life  was  upon  his 
soul.  He  scarce  noticed  what  was  about  him, 
so  distinct  was  the  picture  of  the  Abbey  walls 
before  him.  Suddenly  he  observed  a  bit  of  bright 
color.  Was  it  some  fancy  of  his  tortured  brain, 
or  was  it  really  Rose  seated  there  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree  ? 

She  was  in  a  mood  that  was  complicated,  even 
for  her.  After  the  scene  with  Annys  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  Fair,  she  had  encountered  the  Baron. 
Stung  with  anger  and  resentment  against  the  poor 
priest  who  had  so  shamed  her,  and  also  struggling 
against  a  remorseful  contrition  at  having  counte 
nanced  (and  more  than  countenanced)  the  love- 
making  of  Matilda's  plighted  lover,  she  welcomed 
the  distraction  of  the  Baron's  ardent  wooing.  She 
loathed  her  life  and  her  surroundings.  He  painted 
the  future  in  roseate  colors.  So,  even  as  Annys 
approached,  she  was  on  the  point  of  keeping  a 
rendezvous  with  the  Baron,  who  was  to  carry  her 
off  with  him  to  the  castle  —  that  great,  glorious, 
gloomy,  dread,  yet  fascinating  castle.  And  yet, 
although  her  mind  was  fully  made  up,  she  played 
with  an  idea,  as  was  her  wont,  deep  down  in  a  kind 
of  subconscious  fashion.  Suppose,  after  all,  she 
had  fled  with  Annys  !  How  his  eyes  had  blazed  ! 
And  those  sensitive  lips  !  One  was  tantalized  into 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         225 

wondering  whether  there  trembled  on  them  a  kiss 
or  an  Ave ! 

After  all,  there  would  have  been  a  certain  subtle 
charm  in  being  the  mistress  of  a  great  and  stately 
prelate  that  would  be  totally  lacking  in  giving  her 
self  to  one  so  frankly  of  this  world  as  the  Baron 
de  Leaufort.  Her  prelate-lover  might  come  to 
her  straight  from  the  preaching  of  a  sermon  on 
chastity ;  she  would  kiss  away  all  recollection  of  it. 
She  could  see  others  approach  him  as  their  spirit 
ual  adviser,  and  watch  the  holy  purity  of  his  face 
and  revel  in  the  knowledge  that  at  will  she  could 
sweep  over  it  the  swift  pallor  of  desire.  She  was 
full  of  all  sorts  of  whimsical  pictures  as  she  looked 
up  suddenly  and  saw  Annys  gazing  fiercely,  hun 
grily,  down  at  her. 

"  You  are  ill,"  she  cried,  startled. 

"  111  ? "  he  answered,  in  a  strange,  hard  voice, 
strange  even  to  his  own  ears.  "  111 !  Ay !  ill  unto 
death,  and  all  the  saints  in  heaven  cannot  save 
me." 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  for  an  instant, 
and  then  he  looked  at  her  and  a  groan  escaped 
him. 

"Woman,"  he  said, "  in  my  foolishness  I  thought 
that  love  could  come  of  heaven." 

She  spoke  no  word,  but  watched  him,  fascinated. 
Q 


226  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Ay,  poor,  ignorant  fool  that  I  was !  But  now 
do  I  wot  right  well  that  it  cometh  not  out  of 
heaven,  but  of  hell,  woman,  of  hell,  of  hell ! 

"  See  !  "  he  cried,  grasping  her  suddenly  by  the 
shoulders  so  that  she  winced  with  pain.  "  See,  I 
have  sought  to  flee  thee,  I  have  sought  to  escape 
by  every  means  in  my  power.  Even  now  am  I  on 
my  way  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  thee  in  a  cell  at  St. 
Dunstan's.  I  have  prayed,  and  I  have  scourged 
and  chastised  myself — but  all  in  vain,  still  it  con 
quers  me,  it  tortures  me,  this  terrible  power  that 
from  time  immemorial  hath  been  the  snare  and 
curse  of  man  —  the  carnal  love  of  woman." 

He  noticed  that  his  grasp  hurt  her,  but  he  did 
not  care. 

"  I  held  myself,"  he  continued,  "  even  I,  above 
the  Holy  Fathers,  above  the  Saints,  above  tempta 
tion.  I  thought  it  might  be  given  to  man  to  love 
tenderly  and  chastely.  Tenderly !  O  my  God! 
tenderly!  Listen.  I  love  thee,  but  there  is  noth 
ing  whatever  of  tenderness  in  my  love,  for  I  warn 
thee  it  hath  turned  me  into  a  foul  demon.  Flee 
me,  flee  me  while  there  is  yet  time,  flee  me,  for 
there  is  naught  of  Christ's  tender,  beautiful  love 
in  this.  Nay,  I  tell  thee  the  Fathers  were  right,  the 
love  of  man  for  woman  is  a  cursed,  cursed  thing." 

And  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  sank 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         227 

upon  the  ground,  face  down,  that  he  could   no 
longer  look  upon  her. 

There  was  something  in  his  helplessness  as  he 
lay  there,  that  appealed  to  her  better  side,  to  that 
elemental  mother-nature  that  lies  somewhere,  how 
ever  deep  down,  in  the  worst  woman.  The  swift 
thought  to  revenge  herself  for  his  humiliation  of 
her,  to  keep  him  by  her  until  the  arrival  of  the 
Baron  and  then  to  hold  him  up  to  ridicule  and 
scorn  —  was  put  aside  as  quickly  as  it  was  con 
ceived.  She  would  slip  away  noiselessly  and  let 
him  forget  her  if  he  could.  She  would  even  pray 
that  he  might  be  able  to.  He  looked  so  utterly 
worn  and  ill  that  her  tenderness  went  a  bit  too 
far.  With  a  sudden  impulsive  movement  she  bent 
low  and  laid  one  hand  lightly  upon  one  hollow 
temple.  In  an  instant  he  sprang  up  wildly, 
fiercely,  but  she  had  slipped  quickly  behind  the 
broad  trunk  of  an  old  oak  and  he  gazed  about  him 
stupidly.  Had  it  all  been  but  a  wild  fantasy  of 
his  overstrained  brain?  He  had  sprung  up  de 
termined  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms.  His  struggle 
was  at  an  end,  he  could  fight  no  longer. 

"  For  this  was  I  crucified  ?     Thou  hast  crucified  me  again." 

The  plaintive  words  rose  and  fell  soft  and  sweet 
through  the  woods. 


228  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

The  figure  of  the  Lord  stood  before  him,  and 
oh,  how  infinitely  sad  was  the  beloved  counte 
nance.  Annys  threw  himself  before  Him,  shaken 
by  terrible  sobs.  The  figure  faded  away.  The 
woods  were  full  of  the  cries  of  demons,  evil  faces 
mocked  and  jeered  at  him  from  the  branches  of 
the  trees.  The  sky  grew  copper-hued.  He  fled 
as  swiftly  as  his  trembling  limbs  would  carry  him. 

His  one  thought  was  to  reach  the  Abbey.  Al 
ready  he  longed  to  feel  the  sting  of  the  lash  about 
his  shoulders. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          229 


XXI 

IT  had  been  noticed  for  some  time  past  by  all 
members  of  the  household  that  the  Abbot  of  St. 
Dunstan  seemed  ill  at  ease.  It  was  even  the  cause 
of  some  jesting  among  the  monks  that,  for  the  first 
time  in  the  recollection  of  his  brothers,  the  Abbot's 
appetite  had  failed. 

And  small  wonder  that  the  usually  placid  Abbot 
was  disturbed  at  heart,  for  there  had  been  rumors 
in  the  air  of  an  intended  visit  from  the  Bishop  to 
inquire  into  certain  scandals  that  for  some  time 
past  had  noisily  rung  in  his  ears,  in  spite  of  their 
unwillingness  to  hear  them.  At  last,  but  two  days 
ago,  a  letter  had  been  sent  by  messenger  from  the 
Bishop,  announcing  that  he  had  been  compelled 
to  write,  instead  of  coming  in  person,  because, 
although  his  spirit  was  unfailing,  his  flesh  was 
all  too  weak  to  stand  the  great  burden  of  his 
calling.  The  scathing  denunciations  in  the  let 
ter  proved  indeed  that  the  prelate's  "  spirit  was 
unfailing,"  but,  severe  as  they  were,  the  Abbot 
thanked  his  stars  that  at  least  he  had  escaped 


230  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

a  visit.  Before  dictating  a  proper  answer  to  the 
pastoral  letter,  an  answer  that  should  breathe  a 
spirit  of  the  most  complete  contrition  and  humil 
ity,  once  more  the  abbot  read  it  from  beginning 
to  end :  — 

"  Thomas,  by  divine  compassion.  Bishop  of  Ely,  for  Chrises 
sake —  Greeting  to  John  Wallingham,  Abbot  of  the  Abbey 
of  St.  Dunstan. 

"  Since  we,  although  unworthy,  are  by  the  requirements  of  our 
office  bound  to  render  account  of  you  and  all  our  people  before 
the  eternal  Judge  '  terrible  among  kings  of  the  earth,'  we,  there 
fore,  are  moved  inwardly  by  grief  of  heart  and  pained  even  to 
the  very  marrow  of  our  soul  that  evils  so  base,  so  loathsome,  so 
shameful,  so  diabolical,  so  infamous,  and  so  impious,  separate 
you  from  the  body  of  Christ  and  join  you  to  the  body  of  our 
ancient  adversary.  For  the  name  of  Christ  is  blasphemed  by 
you,  and  the  Holy  Scriptures  through  you  who  by  the  mouth 
of  your  detestably  vile  body  presume  to  teach  and  guide  others. 

"Now,  though  absent  in  body, yet  present  in  spirit,  we  attempt 
in  writing  what  we  cannot  at  present  accomplish  by  word  of 
mouth.  We  admonish  you  that  you  take  heed  to  receive  this 
writing  of  ours  as  though  it  were  the  word  of  the  Lord  Himself 
with  awe  and  humility  of  mind. 

"  Therefore  we  beseech  you  and  command  you  :  let  the  re 
membrance  of  your  profession  come  to  you  ;  bring  often  before 
your  eyes  the  sacred  order  to  which  you  belong,  to  which  is 
joined  the  vow  of  chastity ;  consider  also  the  guidance  of  souls 
which  you  have  undertaken,  in  which  should  be  shown  the 
example  of  chastity.  In  addition  to  these  things,  ponder,  I 
specially  entreat,  over  the  fear  of  hell,  and  the  love  of  celestial 
pleasures.  Occupy  yourself,  I  beseech  you,  by  the  crucifixion 
of  Christ,  for  the  future,  with  the  importance  of  a  holy  conduct 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         231 

of  life,  cleanse  yourself  of  the  stain  of  crime,  and  by  the  radi 
ance  of  good  deeds  flee  the  darkness  of  your  past  life,  and  by 
the  fragrance  of  a  good  reputation  dispel  the  repulsive  odors 
which  have  arisen. 

"  And  so,  with  the  tenderness  of  my  inmost  soul,  I  ask  that 
you  drink  the  bitter  portion  of  this  page,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
offered  lovingly  and  that  through  it  you  may  profit  and  benefit. 
Drink,  therefore,  not  only  willingly,  but  eagerly,  the  bitter  cup 
of  your  transformation  into  a  new  man. 

"  Farewell  in  Christ,  Farewell." 

What  could  the  Abbot  write  in  reply,  to  con 
vince  the  Bishop  that  a  visit  in  person  was  not 
necessary?  There  was  a  strong  probability  that 
a  smooth,  repentant  letter  might  deceive  the  old 
man ;  but  once  let  his  penetrating  eyes  fall  on  the 
Abbot  himself,  let  him  come  near  enough  to  hear 
the  thousand  and  one  bits  of  scandal  that  were 
floating  about  the  neighborhood,  and  the  Abbot's 
occupancy  of  the  monastery  was  but  a  question 
of  hours.  Besides,  the  Abbot  needed  time  to  set 
in  motion  an  earnest  appeal  to  the  Archbishop  to 
relieve  him  of  the  "inquisitorial  jurisdiction  of  the 
Bishop  of  Ely."  And  if  that  did  not  succeed, 
there  still  would  be  Rome  to  appeal  to.  Plenty 
of  Abbeys  had  received  this  privilege,  and  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Dunstan  had  grown  rich  and  had 
more  moneys  to  spend  than  even  the  powerful 
Bishop,  who  had  his  great  estate  to  keep  up  and 
who  could  not  mortgage  his  properties  beyond 


232  ROBERT  ANNYS-.  POOR   PRIEST 

his  own  lifetime.  The  monastery  of  St.  Dun- 
stan  had  indeed  thrived  off  the  popularity  of  its 
shrine  to  St.  Mary,  to  which  women  came  who 
were  desirous  of  becoming  mothers.  The  divine 
afflatus  had  worked  so  many  miracles  upon  wives 
who  had  long  disappointed  the  hopes  of  their  hus 
bands,  that  its  reputation  had  spread  throughout 
the  land.  For  a  while  vast  content  filled  the 
breasts  of  the  fortunate  fathers,  but  little  by  little 
certain  ugly  rumors  began  to  be  whispered,  and  it 
was  these  that  caused  the  Bishop's  letter. 

The  patient  scribe  awaited  the  Abbot's  pleas 
ure.  The  Abbot  fumed  and  scowled.  At  last, — 

"  Most  dearly  beloved  Brother  in  Christ,"  he 
began. 

Just  then  a  monk  stood  before  him.  "What 
do  you  want  ?  "  asked  the  Abbot,  somewhat  impa 
tiently,  since  he  was  at  last  launched  upon  the 
important  letter,  and  it  would  not  do  to  put  off 
answering  it  too  long,  or  the  writer  might  suddenly 
find  strength  to  come  in  person.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  There  stands  before  the  gate  a  russet  priest 
who  begs  admission,"  spoke  up  the  monk. 

"  Admit  him.  Why  come  you  to  me  for  that  ? 
I  am  occupied.  Begone  !  " 

"  But,  most  revered  Father,  by  his  own  admis 
sion  he  is  under  the  ban  of  the  Church." 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         233 

"  Ah,  so  ?  Let  me  see  him."  And  the  Abbot 
slowly  waddled  to  the  gate,  and  peered  through 
the  bars.  There  he  saw  a  young  poor  priest 
upon  his  knees. 

"  What  do  you  wish  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  wish  to  be  received  again  into  the  bosom  of 
the  Church." 

"  Do  you  wish  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  wish  and  desire  it." 

"  Your  name  ?  " 

"  Robert  Annys." 

The  Abbot's  eyes  lit  up  writh  triumph.  He 
knew  well  the  story  of  this  wilful  young  poor 
priest,  who  had  refused  high  office  at  the  hand 
of  the  Hierarchy  and  defied  it.  Perchance  if  he 
converted  this  notorious  sinner,  the  Bishop  might 
be  brought  to  look  less  severely  on  his  own  past 
sins.  The  Abbot  looked  down  upon  the  young 
man  complacently.  "  The  fellow  looks  meek 
enough  now,"  he  thought.  He  drew  himself  up, 
and  spoke  in  solemn  tones  the  words  that  would 
receive  the  erring  one  back  into  the  bosom  of  the 
Church.  Pleasanter  work  this,  by  far,  and  more 
soothing  to  his  pride,  than  penning  letters  of  con 
trition  and  obeisance. 

"  Receive,  then,"  he  recited,  "  the  sign  of  the 
Cross  of  Jesus  Christ  and  of  Christianity,  which 


234  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

you  have  hitherto  borne  and  which  the  error 
which  had  deceived  you  caused  you  to  lose  most 
miserably." 

Then  he  swung  wide  the  ponderous  gate,  saying : 

"  Enter  into  the  house  of  God,  after  having 
departed  therefrom,  bewildered  unhappily  by  error. 
Know  you  that  you  have  been  snatched  from  the 
snares  which  are  Death  and  Destruction." 

Annys  followed  the  Abbot  to  his  private  cham 
ber.  The  Abbot  knew  well  the  type  of  man 
before  him,  the  exalted,  morbidly  self-censorious 
type,  which  would  fling  itself  on  the  cold,  hard 
ground  for  an  entire  night  for  the  harboring  of 
an  unholy  thought.  He  listened  with  benignant 
countenance  to  the  tale  of  the  penitent  man,  and 
well  he  believed  his  word  that  this  had  been  his 
first  temptation  to  sin.  He  knew,  too,  that  this 
was  a  case  that  required  soothing  rather  than 
harassing.  This  was  the  kind  of  man  whose  rea 
son  becomes  unseated  from  a  real  agony  of  con 
trition.  He  laid  one  fat  hand  upon  the  shoulder 
of  the  young  poor  priest  who  kneeled  before  him, 
abjectly. 

"  How  do  you  know,  my  son,  that  it  was  a 
woman  whom  you  encountered  in  the  woods  on 
your  way  here,  and  who  tempted  you  so  sorely  ? " 

How  did  he  know  ?      How  could  he  bring  him- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         235 

self  to  say  that  every  nerve  in  his  body  had 
trembled  with  ecstasy  in  her  presence  ? 

"  Yea,  it  was  a  woman,  Holy  Father,  the  most 
beautiful  woman  on  the  earth." 

The  Abbot  smiled;  in  the  course  of  a  long 
experience  he  had  heard  of  a  good  many  most 
beautiful  women  on  the  earth. 

"  I  know  well  that  it  bore  the  semblance  of  a 
woman,"  he  went  on  suavely,  "  but  how  know  you 
that  it  was  other  than  an  evil  spirit  —  one  of 
Satan's  minions  sent  to  tempt  you  on  your  way 
to  Holy  Church?" 

Was  it  possible  ?  Was  the  whole  thing  but  a 
horrible  vision  which  had  been  sent  to  mock  him  ? 
Horrible  !  Was  it,  then,  wholly  horrible  ?  Great 
God !  he  was  undone  indeed.  Here  he  kneeled 
at  the  foot  of  his  confessor,  and,  instead  of  the 
countenance  of  his  dear  Lord,  the  tantalizing, 
brilliant  beauty  of  a  woman's  face  was  before  his 
eyes.  He  was  utterly  lost  in  sin. 

"O  Father,  most  Holy  Father,"  he  cried  passion 
ately,  "  shrive  me,  shrive  me !  I  will  fast  three 
days,  not  even  water  shall  pass  my  lips.  I  will 
spend  three  whole  nights  on  my  bare  knees  on 
the  ground.  I  will  bear  three  thousand  lashes, 
anything,  anything.  Only  let  the  countenance 
of  my  God  be  turned  again  toward  me." 


236  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Tell  me,  did  not  the  form  of  the  woman  seem 
to  disappear  miraculously  when  you  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Holy  Father;  the  ground  seemed  to 
part  and  swallow  her  up,  and  she  disappeared 
from  my  sight  utterly." 

"  Ah,  I  thought  as  much.  Doubtless  she  de 
scended  into  the  awaiting  pit  of  hell.  I  shall 
exorcise  the  Evil  Spirit  from  you,  and  you  shall 
have  peace.  Fear  not.  All  will  yet  be  well." 

"  A  penance,  a  penance." 

The  Abbot  pondered  for  a  moment.  He  must 
name  something  that  would  appeal  to  the  peni 
tent  as  sufficient,  yet  he  dared  not  permit  him  to 
undergo  too  severe  a  strain  in  his  evidently  ex 
hausted  condition.  Suddenly  his  face  lit  up  with 
an  inspiration.  "  I  have  heard,"  he  said,  "  of  your 
good  work  among  the  poor.  The  rustics  believe 
in  you  and  trust  you.  Go  to  the  cellarer  and  get 
bread  in  plenty  and  scatter  it  in  great  largesse 
among  the  poor  people  "  (he  could  yet  make  the 
monastery  bear  a  sweeter  name  before  the  coming 
of  the  Bishop)  "  and  give  it  all  in  the  name  of  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Dunstan,  forgetting  not  to  deliver 
with  it  the  blessing  of  the  Holy  Abbot." 

But  Annys  implored  that  some  real  penance 
be  given  him.  "  Besides,"  he  added,  "  I  have  no 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         237 

longer  the  strength  to  go  forth  into  the  world. 
There  will  I  meet  with  women.  I  desire  and 
pray  not  to  see  the  face  of  woman  more." 

The  Abbot  hid  a  smile.  He  had  heard  like 
protestations  before.  He  had  also  known  to  come 
later  the  fervent  appeals  for  permission  to  depart 
from  the  Abbey  for  a  brief  space.  With  the  giv 
ing  of  such  permissions  the  Abbot  was  notoriously 
generous. 

"  Well,"  returned  the  Abbot,  "  wait,  and  for  the 
present  remain  here  and  spend  the  night  on  your 
knees  on  the  floor  saying  four  hundred  Aves,  and 
in  the  morning,  before  your  fast  is  broken,  one 
hundred  lashes  shall  be  laid  across  your  back." 

"  One  thousand,  Holy  Father." 

"  I  have  spoken." 

Then  the  Abbot  motioned  Annys  to  follow 
him,  and  proceeded  to  the  chapel,  where  they 
discovered  all  the  members  of  the  monastery 
assembled.  At  the  entrance,  Annys  took  the 
oath  of  fidelity  and  then  prostrated  himself  while 
the  monks  chanted  in  unison  the  seven  Peniten 
tial  Psalms. 

It  would  have  taken  a  brazen  sinner  indeed  to 
remain  unmoved  during  the  touching  service  of 
receiving  the  excommunicated  one  back  again 
into  the  fold.  Annys  was  deeply  stirred.  He 


238  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

lay  on  the  floor  of  the  chapel,  shaken  by  long- 
drawn  sobs,  while  the  exquisite  modulations  of 
the  solemn  chant  rose  and  fell  about  him.  In 
the  dim  religious  light,  the  monks  in  their  flow 
ing  robes,  their  pallid  faces  standing  out  like 
carved  ivory  against  their  black  cowls,  seemed  as 
spectres  from  another  world  looking  on  the  trial 
of  a  soul  before  the  Great  Judge. 

How  sure,  how  unfaltering,  was  the  touch  of 
Holy  Church  upon  the  penitent  soul.  With  what 
fine  intuition  did  the  service  bring  to  the  soul  of 
the  evil-doer  the  sense  of  sin,  and  finally  through 
the  whole  gamut  of  human  emotions,  —  terror, 
faltering  hope,  faith,  despair,  —  at  last,  through 
humiliation  and  renunciation,  lift  it  with  rapture 
to  God. 

At  first  the  terror  of  the  Lord's  wrath  is  upon 
him :  — 

"  O  Lord,  rebuke  me  not  in  thine  anger, 
Neither  chasten  me  in  thy  hot  displeasure. 
Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  Lord;  for  I  am  withered  away." 

Then  a  calmer  note  is  struck,  one  of  confes 
sion  :  — 

"  I  acknowledged  my  sin  unto  thee, 
And  mine  iniquity  have  I  not  hid." 

Then  the  ardent  supplication,  vibrating  with  a 
passionate  contrition :  — 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         239 

"  Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean  : 
Wash  me  and  I  shall  be  clean  : 
Wash  me  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow. 

****** 

Hide  thy  face  from  my  sins, 
And  blot  out  all  mine  iniquities. 
Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God." 

Then  creeps  in  the  note  of  despair :  — 

"  Hide  not  thy  face  from  me  in  the  day  of  my  distress. 
My  heart  is  smitten  like  grass,  and  withered. 
For  I  have  eaten  ashes  like  bread,  and  mingled  my  drink 
with  weeping." 

Once  more  the  calmness  of  renunciation  and 

humility :  — 

"Teach  me  to  do  thy  will : 
For  thou  art  my  God." 

At  last  bursting  forth  into  the  glorious  anthem 
of  deliverance :  — 

"  Blessed  be  the  Lord  my  rock. 

****** 

I  will  sing  a  new  song  unto  thee,  O  God  : 

Upon  a  psaltery  of  ten  strings  will  I  sing  praises  unto  thee." 

As  the  last  triumphant  words  of  the  refrain 
slowly  died  away,  Annys  was  conducted  to  the 
altar,  where  he  again  prostrated  himself,  while 
the  Abbot  offered  up  a  special  prayer  for  his 
salvation  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over 
him.  No  longer  was  he  under  the  ban  of  the 
Church.  He  rested  on  her  bosom  as  a  wearied 
child  spent  with  sobs. 


24o  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XXII 

BUT  the  peace  that  Annys  had  so  fondly  hoped 
for  in  the  monastery  was  farther  away  from  him 
than  ever.  The  week  that  followed  was  a  daily, 
hourly  struggle  with  the  devil  within  him.  With 
a  body  scarce  kept  alive  by  the  scant  portion  of 
food  which  he  permitted  himself  but  once  a  day, 
in  the  hopes  of  conquering  the  awful  sway  of  the 
senses,  in  reality  he  was  innocently  making  their 
hold  the  stronger  upon  him. 

In  his  wild  passion  for  repentance  his  once 
clear  vision  of  the  follies  of  Manichasism  left  him, 
and  he  plunged  into  the  false  notion  of  the  mo 
nastic  world  that  passions  can  be  killed  by  killing 
the  body.  The  faintness  caused  by  lack  of  food, 
the  cramps  in  his  limbs  from  constant  kneeling, 
made  him  unable  to  sleep.  Instead,  the  nights 
passed  in  a  kind  of  waking  semi-consciousness, 
filled  with  horrible  dreams  of  beautiful  women 
alluringly  holding  out  their  arms  to  him,  and 
then,  as  he  was  about  to  clasp  them,  changing 
into  dreadful  fiends,  grinning  and  spitting  fire  at 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          241 

him.  Or  else  he  thought  that  women  were  press 
ing  kisses  upon  his  lips,  and  faint  from  the 
strength  of  his  emotions,  his  weak  body  could 
endure  no  more.  Enraged  by  the  torments,  he 
sought  to  escape  them  by  castigating  himself 
afresh.  As  others  had  done  before  him,  so  he 
tried  to  forget  the  existence  of  his  body  by  mak 
ing  himself  exquisitely  conscious  of  every  aching, 
throbbing  inch  of  it. 

The  methods  of  monasticism  were  a  failure  in 
subduing  the  carnal  nature  of  man.  Few  monks 
were  like  St.  Pcemen,  who,  when  accused  of  think 
ing  too  much  of  his  body,  defended  his  right  to 
wash  his  feet  by  declaring  that  he  had  learned  to 
kill,  not  his  body,  but  his  passions. 

The  normal  man,  when  the  pangs  of  hunger 
assail  him,  eats  his  meal  and  straightway  forgets 
all  about  the  existence  of  his  stomach.  For  a 
brief  space  —  at  least  until  the  next  meal  is  due 
—  he  may  concern  himself  with  ideals.  The  nor 
mal  man  sleeps  his  eight  hours  or  so,  and  there 
fore  the  need  for  sleep  does  not  overshadow  the 
hours  that  he  chooses  to  devote  to  the  work  of 
the  Lord.  The  ascetic  who  spends  his  day  with 
back  bent  and  knees  pressing  the  hard  ground  of 
a  cell,  who  tries  to  limit  his  sleep  to  four  hours 
and  that  upon  a  bare  board,  and  whose  diet  con- 


242  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

sists  of  dry  bread  and  muddy  water,  is  on  the  fair 
road  to  be  conquered  by  that  which  he  fondly 
thinks  he  is  conquering. 

On  the  seventh  night,  while  his  staring,  burn 
ing  eyes  looked  into  the  darkness,  Annys  suddenly 
became  aware  of  a  light  of  peculiar  softness  and 
purity,  which  appearing  particularly  bright  at  a 
certain  spot  opposite,  filled  the  entire  cell  with 
its  beautiful  radiance. 

He  raised  himself  partially  from  the  board  on 
which  he  lay,  and  watched  curiously  the  spot 
where  the  light  shone  brightest.  It  was  not  long 
before  he  made  out  the  lines  of  a  man  robed  in 
the  impressive  vestments  of  a  Pope,  the  superb 
jewelled  tiara  upon  his  head. 

There  was  something  in  the  dark,  glittering 
eyes,  the  haughty  mien,  the  compelling  magnet 
ism  of  the  figure  that  in  some  mysterious  man 
ner  made  him  certain  that  Gregory  the  Seventh, 
the  great,  indomitable  Hildebrand,  stood  before 
him. 

"  Art  thou  one  Robert  Annys,  poor  priest,  who 
departed  from  Holy  Church  and  went  about 
among  the  poor  stirring  up  sedition  and  insur 
rection  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Nay,  Most  Holy  Father,  I  am  that  one  Robert 
Annys  who  went  about  from  village  to  village 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          243 

teaching  of  '  Christ  and  him  crucified.'  If  I  sinned, 
I  sinned  only  in  following  too  closely  the  example 
of  Christ,  which  is  the  one  unpardonable  sin  of  the 
Church  Hierarchical." 

The  Pope's  face  darkened,  and  then  a  slight 
smile  crept  into  it.  "  Hot-headed,  and  fearless 
e'en  as  they  told  me,"  he  exclaimed.  Then  he 
regarded  him  severely.  "  Blaspheme  not !  Art 
thou  he  who  would  boldly  proclaim  that  the 
marriage  of  the  clergy  is  not  an  unholy  thing  ? " 

Annys  groaned  for  answer,  "  Ay,  I  am  he." 

"  Look,  Robert  Annys,  then,  I  cannot  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  cast  thee  wholly  from  Grace,  and  I 
may  yet  intercede  for  thee,  because  thou  art  such 
as  err  through  too  great  enthusiasm.  Tell  me 
concerning  these  ideas  of  marriage.  Let  me  hear 
all  from  thee,  that  I  misjudge  thee  not." 

"Most  Holy  Father,  I  thought  that  religion 
should  lie  in  every  act  of  man  and  not  alone  in 
breviaries  and  masses.  I  sought  to  create  a  priest 
hood  that  would  understand  the  people  and  enter 
into  their  lives  and  needs.  And  we  shall  never 
have  that,  O  Holy  Father,  until  the  priests  share 
the  people's  joys  and  sorrows.  The  heart  of  the 
priest  must  beat  at  the  same  sight  that  thrills  the 
heart  of  the  peasant ;  the  smiles  of  the  priest  must 
spring  from  the  same  source  that  gladdens  the 


244  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

humblest  breast ;  the  tears  of  the  priest  must  flow 
from  the  same  anguish  that  wrings  the  heart  of 
the  lowliest  one." 

The  haughty  prelate  listened  patiently  while 
the  young  poor  priest  spoke. 

"Ah,  my  son,"  he  said  at  last,  seeing  him  pause, 
"  such  a  vision  takes  a  high  hope  of  Man  and  a 
firm  belief  in  his  purity  of  heart.  I  fear  thy 
faith  would  not  be  justified.  It  takes  account  of 
the  priest  lifting  up  the  average  man,  but  it  takes 
none  whatever  of  the  average  man  drawing  down 
the  priest." 

Annys  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but  Hildebrand 
waved  one  hand  to  command  silence  and  continued : 
"  Now,  my  son,  in  the  course  of  thy  wanderings, 
doubtless  thou  didst  encounter  women  such  as 
thou  hast  been  fond  of  describing,  who  would, 
through  their  great  purity  and  perfect  sympathy 
and  unselfishness,  make  the  ideal  spouse  for 
the  priest.  Tell  me  of  such  women,  do  they 
exist?" 

"  They  exist,"  cried  Annys,  vehemently,  and 
then  his  voice  failed  him.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  speak  of  Matilda. 

The  eyes  of  the  Pope  blazed.  "  Ha !  I  thought 
as  much,"  he  murmured. 

Then  at  last,  reluctantly,  Annys  brought  him- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          245 

self  to  speak  of  Matilda,  her  simple  charity,  her 
ready  self-sacrifice,  her  tender  sympathy  and 
unfailing  helpfulness. 

"  And  of  course,  were  Rome  to  give  thee  permis 
sion  to  take  a  wife,  it  would  be  this  same  gentle, 
helpful,  ideal  spouse  thou  wouldst  choose  ?  " 

Hildebrand  watched  the  face  of  Annys  keenly. 

But  Annys  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

A  bitter  smile  crossed  the  Pope's  face.  "  How  ? 
could  it  be  that  one  could  hesitate  before  all  this 
perfection  ?  " 

"  Ah,  torture  me  no  longer,"  burst  out  Annys. 
"I  will  confess  all." 

"  No  need,"  answered  the  Pope,  coldly.  "  I 
know  all.  I  have  followed  thy  career  with  a  great 
compassion  in  my  heart.  Dost  still  think  that 
did  the  Church  permit  the  marriage  of  the  priests, 
they  would  all  take  unto  themselves  Matildas? 
Ah,  Robert  Annys,  see  how  utterly  thou  didst 
fall  from  Grace  !  I  tell  thee,  thy  religion  would 
be  one  only  for  saints,  but  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church  takes  cognizance  of  the  weak  and 
sinful." 

Annys  strove  to  reply,  but  his  voice  failed  him. 
Then  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  figure  of  the  Pope 
disappeared  with  a  loud  noise,  and  there  came  the 
sound  of  heavy  blows  upon  the  door  of  his  cell ; 


246  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

he  tried  to  rise  and  go  to  the  door,  but  he  fell  back 
unconscious. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes,  it  was  to  look  into 
the  gentle  face  of  the  Bishop  of  Ely  bending 
solicitously  over  him. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         247 


XXIII 

IT  was  indeed  the  Bishop  of  Ely  who  had 
ordered  the  door  of  the  cell  broken  down,  and  had 
rescued  Annys  from  what  would  doubtless  have 
been  his  last  fainting  spell.  He  had  succeeded  so 
well  in  subduing  his  flesh  that  at  last  it  was  on 
the  point  of  separating  itself  entirely  from  the 
spirit.  The  Bishop  brought  him  to  with  diffi 
culty,  and  sent  him  to  the  infirmary  to  be  nursed 
back  to  strength.  He  did  not  return  to  Ely  until 
he  saw  the  tinge  of  health  returning  slowly  to 
the  young  priest's  sunken  cheeks. 

Thomas  of  Ely  had  conquered  his  own  weak 
ness  of  flesh  after  all,  and  had  taken  the  journey 
to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Dunstan  before  the  wily 
Abbot  had  time  to  receive  his  answer  from  the 
Archbishop.  He  had  dealt  summarily  with  Abbot 
John  and  deposed  him,  refusing  to  listen  to  his 
plea  for  mercy ;  for  nothing  outraged  the  Bishop 
so  keenly  as  that  a  servant  of  Holy  Church  should 
betray  his  sacred  trust.  He  would  have  liked  to 
appoint  Robert  Annys  as  the  Abbot's  successor; 


248  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

but  as  that  was  utterly  impossible  for  the  present, 
he  appointed  a  most  worthy  monk  who  was  the 
unanimous  choice  of  his  brethren. 

Little  by  little  Robert's  strength  returned,  and 
his  kind  adviser  led  him  gently  back  to  the  thought 
that  he  could  again  be  of  use  to  others.  Therein, 
the  Bishop  knew,  lay  the  only  balm  to  the  tor 
tured  heart.  He  gave  a  hint  to  the  new  Abbot, 
who  gave  Annys  work  to  do  in  the  scriptorium, 
where  he  could  dwell  in  the  calm  past,  and  await 
the  time  when  he  could  again  venture  forth  into 
the  world  —  a  world  that  sorely  needed  his  guid 
ing  hand.  When  he  was  allowed  to  leave  the 
infirmary,  it  was  not  to  go  to  his  solitary  cell,  but 
to  share  the  dormitory  with  the  others. 

The  days  and  the  weeks  slipped  gently  on,  the 
routine  of  life  in  the  scriptorium  endearing  itself 
more  and  more  to  the  newcomer's  heart.  The 
scriptorium  at  St.  Dunstan's  was  a  large  cham 
ber  which  usually  held  about  a  dozen  persons,  but 
which  at  times  permitted  of  as  many  as  twenty 
working  together.  The  Abbot  selected  the  scribes, 
no  one  being  allowed  to  enter  the  room  without  his 
permission.  It  was  also  the  duty  of  the  Abbot  to 
give  orders  to  the  Armarius  how  to  portion  out 
the  work,  a  certain  task  once  assigned,  no  monk 
being  permitted  to  exchange  his  portion  for  an- 


A   TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         249 

other.  Boys  and  novices  wrote  letters,  while  older 
monks  were  selected  to  make  copies  of  old  books 
and  transcripts  of  such  chronicles  as  required 
rigid  accuracy.  One  was  specially  selected  to 
insert  rubrics  and  design  ornamental  capitals  and 
other  embellishments,  while  there  was  a  chief 
artist  to  whom  were  left  the  important  designs. 
The  Armarius  bound  the  books  in  wooden  covers 
to  preserve  the  parchment  from  mildew  and  damp. 
He  was  really  the  librarian,  keeping  a  record  of 
all  books  loaned  either  to  the  monks  for  private 
study  (although  he  never  permitted  the  rare  works 
to  leave  the  scriptorium),  or  to  sick  monks  in  the 
infirmary.  Every  volume  had  to  be  returned  be 
fore  the  lights  were  lit,  and  work  ceased  in  the 
scriptorium  the  instant  the  daylight  failed.  The 
manuscripts  were  too  precious  to  be  endangered 
by  artificial  light,  nor  indeed  by  any  kind  of  heat, 
so  in  winter  the  monks  had  to  work  by  the  hour 
with  their  fingers  benumbed  by  the  cold.  The 
scribes  had  no  light  task.  Penned  on  the  margin 
of  an  exquisitely  written  manuscript,  there  has 
come  down  to  us  from  those  days  at  least  one 
pathetic  plaint:  — 

"  He  who  does  not  know  how  to  write  imagines  it  to  be  no 
labor ;  but  though  three  fingers  only  hold  the  pen,  the  whole 
body  grows  weary." 


250  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR  PRIEST 

Robert  Annys  often  watched  with  interest  the 
busy  Armarius,  who  had  manifold  duties.  He 
kept  a  careful  record  of  the  use  of  every  book ; 
and  at  times  some  distant  monastery  begged  for 
the  loan  of  a  certain  book,  and  some  proper  guar 
antee  must  first  be  secured ;  or  perhaps,  if  the  bor 
rower  were  not  well-known,  a  book>of  equal  value 
must  first  be  deposited  as  ample  security.  Besides 
this,  it  was  his  duty  to  provide  on  the  shelves  the 
material  for  the  work :  plenty  of  parchment,  ink 
made  of  soot  or  sometimes  of  ivory  black,  pens 
fashioned  of  the  quills  of  geese  or  peacocks, 
chalk,  pumice  stones,  penknives  to  cut  the  parch 
ment,  awls  to  make  the  lines,  rulers  and  plummet 
to  note  omissions  of  text  in  the  margin,  and 
weights  to  keep  down  the  vellum. 

Not  only  Annys  grew  to  love  his  work  and  to 
take  a  great  pride  in  it,  but  the  absolute  silence 
of  the  scriptorium  soothed  his  shattered  nerves. 
He  felt  that  he  could  not  be  in  surroundings 
more  congenial.  The  monks  stepped  in  and  out 
noiselessly.  If  a  book  was  required,  it  was  nec 
essary  only  to  extend  the  hand  and  make  a  move 
ment  as  if  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book.  If 
it  were  a  missal  that  was  required,  one  should 
make  the  sign  of  a  cross;  if  the  gospels,  the  sign 
of  the  cross  on  the  forehead  ;  if  a  tract,  one  hand 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         251 

was  laid  on  the  abdomen,  the  other  on  the  mouth; 
if  a  pagan  work,  first  the  general  sign  for  a  book, 
and  then  one  scratched  the  ear  with  the  hand 
after  the  manner  of  a  dog — for  what  was  a  pagan 
save  an  infidel  dog  ?  The  only  time  the  silence 
was  permitted  to  be  broken  was  when  a  large 
number  of  copies  of  some  popular  treatise  was 
required,  in  which  case  a  skilful  transcriber  read 
aloud  while  the  others  copied  at  dictation.  The 
works  of  Tertullian  were  given  Annys  to  copy. 
Although  at  a  distance,  the  Bishop  yet  watched 
over  him,  giving  strict  orders  that  no  lives  of  the 
saints,  or  confessions,  or  any  work  of  religious 
exaltation  be  given  to  him.  His  purpose  was  to 
bring  Annys  back  to  the  world  and  the  present 
by  other  channels,  —  to  keep  his  mind  on  the  calm 
scholarly  days  at  Balliol,  rather  than  to  permit  it 
to  dwell  upon  the  immediate  past. 

"  The  sweet  yoke  of  the  Lord  "  —  how  often 
had  Annys  come  across  that  phrase  in  the  con 
fessions  and  meditations  of  holy  men.  And 
now  for  the  first  time  he  really  understood  the 
full  sweetness  of  it.  Its  spell  was  slowly  work 
ing  upon  him,  subtly  undermining  his  resolution 
to  return  to  the  people.  At  last  the  day  came 
when  he  thought  his  work  lay  within  the  walls 
of  the  Abbey.  There  was  no  one  there  to  tell 


25  2  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

him  his  old  self  was  not  dead,  but  slumbering. 
As  soon  as  he  had  signified  his  intention  to  take 
the  vows  of  their  order,  he  had  been  intrusted  to 
the  special  care  of  an  old  monk  who  spoke  to 
him  from  time  to  time  of  the  discomforts  and 
humiliations  which  a  monk  must  be  prepared  to 
bear.  At  the  end  of  two  months  he  was  ready 
to  listen  to  the  reading  of  the  Rule  of  St.  Bene 
dict,  a  voluminous  document  of  seventy-three 
chapters.  At  its  conclusion,  the  reader  admon 
ished  him  solemnly:  — 

"  Behold  the  law  under  which  thou  wouldst  fight :  if  thou 
canst  observe  it,  enter ;  if  thou  canst  not,  depart  in  freedom." 

When  June  came,  this  ordeal  had  been  gone 
through  but  once ;  it  would  be  put  to  him  three 
more  times  during  the  twelvemonth  to  follow,  and 
at  the  expiration  of  this  period  he  would  be 
warned  that  shortly  he  would  have  no  power  of 
leaving.  Then,  if  he  still  kept  to  his  resolution 
of  becoming  a  Benedictine,  he  would  be  intro 
duced  into  the  oratory  and  there,  in  the  presence 
of  all  the  community,  before  God  and  all  the 
saints,  would  have  to  promise  stability  and  per 
petual  residence,  and  also  reformation  of  his 
morals  and  obedience  under  pain  of  eternal  dam 
nation.  He  would  then  make  a  declaration  of 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         253 

this  pledge  in  writing  with  his  own  hand,  and 
place  it  upon  the  altar;  then  he  must  throw  him 
self  at  the  feet  of  each  of  the  brethren  singly,  beg 
ging  them  to  pray  for  him.  From  that  day  forth 
he  would  be  regarded  as  a  member  of  the 
community. 


254  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XXIV 

WHEN  the  note  reached  Matilda,  telling  of  his 
decision  to  become  a  Benedictine  monk,  and  im 
ploring  her  to  forget  him  and  to  wed  Richard 
Meryl,  who  was  far  worthier  of  her  than  he,  her 
tears  flowed,  not  at  her  own  loss,  for  that  she  had 
long  since  schooled  herself  to  bear,  but  at  the 
people's  loss  in  their  leader. 

Robert  Annys,  her  Robert  Annys,  a  Benedic 
tine  !  Impossible  !  How  often  in  the  sweet  days 
of  their  companionship  had  he  railed  bitterly 
against  those  so-called  Christians  that  buried 
their  noses  in  ponderous  tomes  of  Meditations 
on  the  Future  Life,  while  Satan  grimly  did  his 
work  on  the  life  going  on  about  him.  How  his 
impatience  had  flashed  out  against  those  that 
shut  their  eyes  to  Christ's  true  mission  in  the 
world,  and  continued  in  the  even  tenor  of  their 
way  within  the  sheltered  cloister,  while  without 
the  cold  north  winds  blew,  and  crops  failed,  and 
sheep  died  by  the  hundred,  and  gaunt  men  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes  and  saw  there,  not  hope 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          255 

and  good-fellowship,  but  only  hunger  and  despair 
and  a  thirst  for  vengeance.  What  answer  would 
such  have  ready  —  he  used  to  say  —  at  the  Tri 
bunal  of  the  Great  Judge,  when  asked  after  the 
workers  of  the  world  ?  Would  their  answers 
differ  any  from  that  made  by  baron  or  bailiff, 
the  same  miserable  palliation  that  trembled  on 
the  lips  of  guilty  Cain  ? 

Robert  Annys,  her  Robert  Annys,  a  Benedic 
tine  !  He  who  had  always  translated  religion 
into  helpfulness,  had  he,  then,  after  all,  lowered 
his  colors  and  aligned  himself  with  the  good  but 
impotent  dreamers  of  the  earth  ?  Now  she  re 
gretted  that  her  pride  had  let  him  go  from  her 
without  one  plea  for  Piers.  That  would  not  have 
been  a  plea  for  herself.  And  perhaps  she  could 
have  saved  him  this  defeat.  Yet  she  comforted 
herself  with  the  thought  that  it  could  not  last. 
Some  day  —  she  hoped  before  he  would  take  the 
vows  of  his  order  —  some  day,  amid  the  peace 
and  calm  of  the  cloisters,  the  voice  of  the  down 
trodden  people,  his  once-beloved,  ever-beloved 
people,  would  reach  him,  and  he  would  fling  off 
the  cowl,  to  place  himself  again  at  their  head. 

For  indeed  their  need  of  him  was  great.  As 
the  time  drew  near  for  the  march  on  to  Black- 
heath,  it  was  impossible  to  restrain  their  impa- 


256  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

tience.  Everywhere  slumbered  fires  that  needed 
but  a  puff  to  burst  into  instant  flame.  Here  it 
was  a  quarrel  of  long  standing  with  an  abbey 
for  the  right  to  grind  one's  own  corn ;  there  it 
was  the  insolence  of  a  poll-tax  collector ;  again  it 
was  a  bailiff  seeking  a  runaway  serf :  any  pretext 
served  to  fan  the  smouldering  embers.  Matilda 
was  too  loyal  a  pupil  of  Robert  Annys  not  to 
watch  anxiously  the  constantly  increasing  out 
bursts  of  violence.  She  knew  how  much  de 
pended  on  the  orderliness  and  self-control  of 
those  who  were  to  demand  their  freedom  of  their 
King. 

During  these  days  she  prayed  much,  and  pored 
for  long  hours  at  a  time  over  her  Bible.  What 
ever  unhappiness  her  love  for  Robert  Annys  had 
caused  her,  at  least  it  had  brought  her  the  joy  of 
reading  for  herself  in  the  Wonderful  Book.  It 
was  everything  to  her,  her  one  beloved  compan 
ion,  for  now  she  lived  utterly  alone.  Her  grand 
mother  was  no  more.  When  Rose  went  from 
her,  she  became  a  helpless  paralytic,  only  speak 
ing  a  minute  before  her  death,  when  she  uttered 
some  wild  curses  in  which  two  generations  of  de 
Leauforts  —  uncle  and  nephew  —  were  strangely 
blended.  Meryl  had  not  yet  returned  from  his 
mission.  Matilda  lived  in  a  blessed  companion- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          257 

ship  with  her  Saviour,  sharing  in  every  act  of  His 
life,  letting  every  precious  word  that  had  fallen 
from  His  lips  sink  deeply  into  her  heart.  It  was 
a  marvellous  experience,  which  broadened  and 
developed  her  receptive  nature.  She  burned  with 
a  passionate  desire  to  make  His  Presence  real  to 
those  about  her.  She  resolved  to  take  up  that 
part  of  Robert's  work  —  the  bringing  of  the  Gos 
pel  to  the  people.  There  could  be  no  greater 
service  on  earth,  and  there  was  comfort  in  the 
consciousness  of  continuing  his  work.  She  was 
sure  the  people  needed  no  other  guidance  than 
the  Bible  in  their  hands.  For  what  knew  the 
untutored  peasant  girl  of  history,  of  the  slow, 
painful  steps  by  which  Christianity  was  won  for 
the  world  ?  of  the  contamination  in  the  very  forces 
that  it  conquered  ?  She  knew  only  the  beautiful 
simplicity  of  Christ's  mandates,  and  felt  a  grow 
ing  horror  for  the  intricacies  of  ritualistic  worship. 
What  knew  she  of  Donations  of  Constantine,  of 
the  slow,  steady  growth  of  the  temporal  dominions 
of  the  Papacy  ?  She  filled  her  heart  to  overflow 
ing  with  His  words  of  peace  and  charity,  and 
gazed  with  growing  scorn  at  the  bickerings  and 
warfare  waged  by  the  Head  of  Holy  Church. 

She  knew  that  in  Rome  there  stood  the  Church 
of  St.  Peter's.     It  had  twenty-nine  steps  leading 


258  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

up  to  its  doors.  When  you  go  up  or  down,  if 
you  say  a  prayer,  you  shall  have  seven  years'  par 
don  for  every  step.  Inside  there  are  seven  prin 
cipal  altars.  At  each  of  these  you  can  obtain 
seven  years'  pardon.  At  the  high  altar  pardon 
is  given  for  twenty  years.  If  you  time  your  visit 
between  Maunday  and  Lammas,  you  obtain  four 
teen  thousand  years'  pardon.  What  could  this  all 
mean  to  her?  What  knew  she  of  the  need  to 
encourage  pilgrimages  to  Rome,  to  fasten  the  eyes 
of  the  world  upon  it  ?  What  knew  she  of  the 
magnificent  statesmanship  that  could  hold  the 
Holy  City  in  the  imagination  of  all  —  believer  and 
pagan  alike  —  glorious,  impregnable,  supreme  ? 

She  knew  only  that  Jesus  granted  absolution 
through  much  suffering  and  great  faith,  a  real 
change  of  heart.  A  small  detail  which,  in  the 
calculation  of  the  shrewd  Pope,  had  been  rele 
gated  to  comparative  unimportance. 

So,  in  the  same  way,  she  looked  about  her  on 
the  condition  of  the  serfs,  and  saw  nothing  of  the 
slow  upbuilding  of  the  feudal  system,  of  the  ser 
vice  that  once  had  meaning,  but  only  the  apos 
tolic  equality  of  all  men  and  the  nobility  of  labor. 

All  men  were  created  in  the  image  of  God,  and 
she  wanted  to  see  all  men  free  and  equal.  Never 
theless,  she  had  a  horror  of  violence.  She  was 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          259 

fearful  of  the  spectre  of  the  wild  beast  that  stalked 
ever  behind  the  noble  purposes  of  the  Uprising. 

Once  she  encountered  some  men  riotously  re 
turning  from  the  sacking  of  the  house  of  the 
collector  of  the  latest  poll-tax.  Some  staggered 
under  the  weight  of  the  valuables  which  they 
had  carried  off,  while  others  staggered  under  the 
strong  wines  which  they  had  poured  down  their 
throats.  Her  quick  indignation  was  aroused. 

"Thieves!  Robbers!  Despoilers !  How  can 
ye  so  bring  disgrace  on  the  Great  Society  !  " 

But  the  leader  only  laughed,  and  called  out  in 
his  thickened  voice  :  — 

"  Nonsense,  girl !  A  poll-tax  collector  —  'tis  no 
thievery,  my  dear,  but  a  putting  back  into  our  own 
pockets  what  he  did  take  from  ours."  And  they 
passed  on,  laughing  and  hiccoughing. 

Another  time  she  came  across  a  crowd  hanging 
on  the  words  of  an  evil-faced  man,  who  was  urging 
them  to  attack  a  neighboring  castle. 

"  It  will  not  be  the  only  castle  to  fall  before 
us,"  he  boasted. 

It  disheartened  her  to  see  this  fellow  seeking 
his  own  ends  under  the  pretence  of  the  common 
good. 

"  How  long  since  was  it  that  Sir  John  dismissed 
you  as  a  dishonest  bailiff?"  she  cried.  And  the 


26o  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

fellow  turned  purple  and  then  took  to  his  heels, 
followed  by  the  jeers  of  the  crowd.  She  did  what 
she  could,  but  she  realized  that  it  was  but  little. 
How  long  before  Robert  Annys  would  return  to 
them  ?  How  long  ? 

One  day  Richard  Meryl  came  back.  He  ap 
proached  the  village  at  a  moment  when  a  large 
crowd  had  gathered  about  one  who  was  hold 
ing  forth  on  the  ever  popular  text  of  Adam  and 
Eve. 

"  *  Adam  delved  and  Eve  span,' "  the  fellow  was 
saying.  "  So  ho !  where,  then,  was  our  great 
gentleman?  Where,  then,  was  our  fine  Lord 
looking  down  from  his  costly  manor-house  upon 
his  men  sweating  and  toiling  in  the  fields?  And 
where  was  the  fine  lady  lolling  at  her  ease, 
wrapped  in  dainty  raiments  fashioned  by  the 
hand  of  others  ?  If  Eve  span  not  she  went  naked, 
and  if  her  lord  delved  not  he  went  hungry.  And 
now  tell  me,  if  the  good  God  saw  fit  to  make  the 
world  in  the  first  place  only  of  workers  and  no 
laggards,  who,  then,  brought  the  laggards  into 
the  world?" 

"  The  Devil,  the  Devil,  the  Evil  One,"  shouted 
several.  Then  cries  came  from  all  sides,  while 
the  speaker's  face  glowed  with  satisfaction :  — 

"  Put  them  out !  " 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          261 

"  Burn  them  out !  " 

"  Starve  them  out !  " 

Just  then  Meryl  recognized  Matilda,  standing 
among  the  others,  pale  as  death,  but  with  a  great 
light  flaming  in  her  eyes.  He  left  off  watching 
the  speaker  and  glued  his  hungry  eyes  upon  her 
face.  He  saw  with  a  sinking  heart  how  thin  and 
haggard  it  was,  and  a  vague  terror  stole  over  him. 
He  had  schooled  himself  all  this  time  to  bear  the 
sight  of  her  happiness,  and  now  he  saw  that  he 
must  begin  all  over  again  to  bear  the  sight  of  her 
misery. 

The  man's  strident  voice  swept  on :  "  By  God  ! 
men  of  Cambridgeshire,  when  every  manor-house 
lieth  in  ashes  the  Lords  will  no  longer  refuse  to 
grant  us  our  quit-rents.  Then  shall  we  be  able  to 
till  a  bit  of  land  in  freedom  and  we  shall  grind 
our  corn  where  we  will,  and  there  shall  be  no 
masters  to  own  us  body  and  soul." 

"Stay!" 

It  was  Matilda.  The  people  turned,  amazed  at 
her  boldness. 

"  How  foolishly  thou  dost  rant,  Peter  Wells ! " 
she  said  in  a  clear,  steady  voice  that  all  mar 
velled  at.  "  Wot  ye  not,  neighbors,  that  even 
Piers  Ploughman  tells  us  we  must  have  overlords 
and  rulers  ?  Wot  ye  not  that  when  the  rats  and 


262  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

mice  desired  to  put  to  death  all  the  cats  in  the 
realm  that  one  wise  rat  spake  and  said :  — 

" '  If  we  have  no  cats  over  us,  sure  all  the  rats 
will  eat  one  another ! ' 

"  Now,  what  good  will  ever  come  of  violence  and 
bloodshed  ?  Oh,  surely,  ye  are  of  little  faith,  for 
if  ye  believed  in  the  justice  of  your  Cause  ye  would 
be  satisfied  to  stand  before  the  kind  King  with  no 
weapons  in  your  hands  save  just  rightwiseness. 
Ye  would  not  put  your  trust  in  burning  and  sack 
ing  and  pillaging.  Oh,  shame,  shame  upon  you  !  " 

There  were  some  that  seemed  impressed  by  the 
girl's  words,  but  Peter  shrugged  his  shoulders 
roughly.  "  Bah  !  spoken  like  thy  soft-hearted  poor 
priest,  Robert  Annys.  He  was  forever  bidding 
us  wait.  Wait !  and  for  what  ?  "  he  blazed  out 
furiously  — "  for  another  poll-tax  to  be  wrung 
from  the  poor  while  the  rich  hide  their  treasure 
between  the  folds  of  the  Justices'  gowns  ?  Wait  ? 
for  what?  For  more  laws  to  be  passed  making  it 
a  crime  to  seek  honest  labor  ?  for  more  raping  of 
our  women  ?  Nay,  let  thy  Robert  Annys  face  me, 
and  I  shall  tell  him  we  have  waited  too  long 
already." 

Her  head  drooped.  Ah,  if  he  would  but  face 
them! 

"  Where  is  Robert  Annys  ?     Why  is  he  not  here 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         363 

to  help  us  ?  "  queried  one,  impatiently.  Matilda 
trembled  and  swayed  as  if  she  would  fall,  and  the 
shadows  darkened  under  her  glowing  eyes.  Meryl 
watched  her  closely. 

"  Why  does  he  not  come  back  to  us? "  repeated 
the  voice.  "  Where  does  he  tarry  so  long  ?  " 

It  would  never  do  to  let  these  wild  men  suspect 
the  truth.  She  nerved  herself  to  answer. 

"  Did  ye  not  yourselves  send  him  on  a  dangerous 
mission  into  Kent  ?  "  she  asked.  There  was  some 
thing  unfamiliar  in  her  voice  that  puzzled  Meryl. 

"  It  is  long  since  time  that  he  returned,"  mut 
tered  the  fellow,  and  Matilda  broke  out  with  a 
sudden  impatience :  "  Mayhap  he  is  risking  his 
life  even  now  for  us  while  ye  stand  idly  talking. 
Learn  to  obey,  bide  ye  in  patience,  for  it  lacks  not 
many  days  before  the  word  will  be  spoken  and 
then  ye  may  go  forth  as  honest  men." 

Then  Meryl  approached  her  and  drew  her  aside, 
and,  as  she  recognized  him,  she  fell  sobbing  into 
his  arms. 

He  conducted  her  home,  and  then  he  asked  the 
meaning  of  it  all. 

"  Thou  art  unhappy.  Tell  me  what  has  hap 
pened.  And  where  is  Robert  Annys  ?  " 

"  Said  I  not  already  that  he  was  in  Kent?  "  she 
whispered. 


264  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Nay,"  he  said  impatiently,  "  thy  face  is  far  too 
dear  to  me  to  permit  it  to  deceive." 

As  she  did  not  reply  to  this,  he  gazed  at  her  in 
gloomy  silence  for  a  while,  and  then  spoke  with  a 
certain  stern  deliberateness. 

"  He  is  not  in  Kent." 

She  quivered.  "  How  should  I  know  more  than 
I  have  said  ?  "  she  asked  plaintively. 

'"How  should  I  know,'"  he  mocked;  "I  left 
thee  on  the  eve  of  wedding  Robert  Annys.  Art 
thou  his  wife  ?  " 

"  Nay ! " 

"  Art  thou  betrothed  ?  " 

"  Nay ! " 

"  What  ?  not  even  betrothed  ?  "  Then  in  a  low, 
trembling  voice,  "  Has  he  wronged  thee  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Richard,  for  shame  !  for  shame  !  " 

"  When  did  he  go  away  ?  " 

"  The  second  day  of  the  Stourbridge  Fair." 

"  And  thou  hast  not  seen  him  since  ?  "  he  asked 
in  amazement. 

"  Nay,  I  have  not  seen  him  since." 

He  paced  up  and  down  a  few  times,  and  then 
he  came  back  to  her  and  looked  down  on  her, 
sullen,  uncertain,  not  knowing  what  to  think. 
"  Listen ! "  at  last  he  broke  out,  "  I  return  and 
find  thee  unhappy.  He  must  have  caused  this. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          265 

Tell  me  the  truth  and  the  whole  truth,  or  I 
shall  seek  him  if  it  be  to  the  end  of  the  earth, 
and  I  shall  wring  the  truth  from  him  if  it  has  to 
be  from  his  dying  lips.  Dost  understand  ?  " 

She  understood.  But  before  she  would  speak, 
she  made  him  promise  solemnly  not  to  reveal  his 
whereabouts.  It  was  a  promise  given  most  reluc 
tantly,  nevertheless  she  felt  certain  it  would  not 
be  broken. 

He  received  the  news  with  amazement  and 
incredulity  just  as  she  had  done.  Impossible ! 
Robert  Annys  a  Benedictine?  Impossible!  "What 
is  it  that  thou  art  keeping  from  me  ?  What  drove 
him  to  this  ?  " 

He  paced  up  and  down  in  deep  thought.  Sud 
denly  he  stood  before  her  again  and  asked  abruptly, 
"  Where  is  Rose  ?  " 

In  a  few  words  she  told  him  of  Rose's  flight 
and  the  death  of  her  grandmother. 

"  When  did  Rose  go  ?  " 

"  The  second  day  of  the  Stourbridge  Fair,"  she 
said. 

Meryl's  face  darkened.  "  How  ?  the  very  day 
he  went?  What  is  this  that  thou  art  telling 
me?" 

The  blood  leapt  to  her  cheeks,  she  looked  up 
into  his  stormy  eyes,  protesting,  denying  —  she 


266  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

scarce  knew  what  —  "Nay,  nay,  Richard!  How 
canst  thou  ?  Believe  me,  thou  art  quite  wrong  — 
She  "  —  but  the  long  strain  of  the  past  months  had 
worn  on  her  and  her  self-control  was  at  an  end. 
She  fled  into  the  house,  weeping  bitterly,  while 
he  left  in  a  turmoil,  angry,  sore  at  heart. 

During  the  next  few  days,  he  deeply  regretted 
his  promise.  He  saw  the  growing  rebellion  against 
the  harsh  landlordism  of  the  monastery ;  he  knew 
but  a  word  would  send  dozens  of  the  men  rioting 
at  the  gates.  It  was  easy  to  predict  what  would 
happen  if  he  led  them  there  and  then  cried  out 
that  their  former  leader  was  within,  a  deserter, 
caring  naught  for  them  and  their  woes,  concern 
ing  himself  solely  with  Aves  and  Breviaries.  Ah, 
he  would  not  stay  behind,  either!  His  blood  leapt 
at  the  thought  of  breaking  down  the  doors  with 
the  maddened  men  at  his  heels,  of  beating  his  way 
through  the  surging  crowd,  of  dragging  Annys 
from  his  cell  and  flinging  him,  with  all  the  guilt 
of  his  miserable  soul  upon  him,  straight  to  the 
judgment  seat.  He  had  guessed  something  of  the 
truth.  He  knew  the  nature  of  Rose  Westel,  he 
knew  also  that  it  must  have  taken  some  tremen 
dous  upheaval  to  send  Robert  Annys  knocking  at 
St.  Dunstan's.  But  there  was  no  pity  in  his 
heart  for  the  struggle  which  his  friend  must  have 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          267 

waged,  nothing  but  a  blind  rage  against  the  man 
who  had  broken  Matilda's  heart. 

He  had  no  patience  to  bide  at  home.  He 
joined  a  party  of  desperate  men  who  were  set 
ting  out  for  Ely  on  a  wild  errand.  His  mood  had 
entirely  changed.  He  derived  a  certain  fierce 
satisfaction  in  rousing  the  people  to  immediate 
action,  in  stirring  them  to  commit  deeds  of  vio 
lence —  in  short,  to  do  all  that  Robert  Annys 
would  have  deplored.  It  was  the  only  way  there 
was  left  to  fight  him — he  had  not  chosen  the 
weapons,  it  was  all  that  was  left  him. 

Soon  among  all  the  men  of  the  Bury  there  was 
not  one  more  reckless,  more  feared,  than  he. 


268  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 


XXV 

ROBERT  ANNYS  had  been  at  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Dunstan  for  six  months  only,  and  he  was  still 
going  through  his  novitiate,  when  he  received  the 
signal  distinction  of  being  appointed  the  chroni 
cler  of  the  Abbey.  It  was  a  position  of  great 
trust,  and  never  before  in  the  history  of  the  mon 
astery  had  it  been  given  to  a  mere  novitiate.  To 
Annys  there  was  a  profound  inspiration  in  taking 
up  a  task  that  had  been  handed  down  from  gener 
ation  to  generation  through  an  unbroken  line  of 
chroniclers  of  whom  the  Abbey  was  justly  proud. 
Well  he  knew  that  the  world  owed  a  great  debt 
to  those  patient,  industrious  monks  in  every  land, 
who  faithfully  set  down  the  doings  of  those  that 
lived  in  the  world.  Surely  if  it  had  been  left  to 
those  that  spent  their  lives  in  the  midst  of  the 
fray,  it  had  never  been  done  —  not  alone  from 
lack  of  time,  but  from  lack  of  clerkly  knowledge 
as  well.  Right  glad  he  was  to  take  up  the  task 
done  by  that  Gildas  who  had  painted  in  fiery 
colors  the  misery  of  the  Britons  when  the  Romans 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          269 

departed ;  by  the  venerable  Bede,  father  of  Catho 
lic  history;  by  Ingulphus,  Abbot  of  Croyland;  by 
William  of  Malmesbury,  "  the  Great  Chronicler," 
fountain-head  of  English  history,  chronicler  of  the 
monastery  of  Malmesbury,  who  grew  so  to  love 
his  work  that  he  refused  to  give  it  up  to  become 
Abbot  of  the  monastery. 

The  great  book  into  which  the  Chronicle  of  St. 
Dunstan  was  entered  was  treated  with  the  greatest 
possible  veneration.  It  lay  in  a  conspicuous  place 
in  the  scriptorium,  and  no  one  but  the  chronicler 
was  permitted  to  make  entries  in  it.  When  any 
great  piece  of  news  was  brought  to  the  monastery 
that  seemed  worth  recording,  the  person  giving 
the  information  wrote  out  his  version  of  the  story 
on  a  loose  piece  of  parchment  and  slipped  his 
communication  into  the  book  of  annals  for  the 
authorized  compiler  to  make  use  of  in  any  way 
that  seemed  best  to  him  after  due  examination  of 
the  evidence. 

There  came  a  day  in  June,  a  wonderful  day 
when  Nature  put  forth  at  once  all  her  attractions 
in  one  burst  of  rapture  after  the  long,  hard  winter. 
The  garden  in  the  close  was  one  mass  of  brilliant 
color,  and  the  air  was  overpoweringly  languorous 
with  the  sweet  fragrance.  Annys  went  to  his 
daily  task  reluctantly,  so  ardently  did  Nature  woo 


270  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

him  to  remain  outdoors.  As  he  stood  for  a 
moment  hesitating  on  the  threshold  of  the  scrip 
torium,  the  words  of  the  poet  Chaucer  came  to 
him :  — 

"  Whan  that  the  month  of  May 
Is  comen,  and  that  I  hear  the  foules  sing, 
And  that  the  flowres  ginnen  for  to  spring, 
Farwell  my  booke,  and  my  devotion." 

He  smiled  to  find  how  perfectly  the  poet  had 
expressed  his  own  mood.  He  seldom  found  in 
Chaucer's  joyous,  buoyant  nature  a  note  that 
appealed  to  him  so  intimately  as  did  the  voice 
of  the  sombre  wanderer  among  the  Malvern  Hills. 
At  last  he  turned  his  back  resolutely  upon  the 
picture  of  loveliness  and  entered  the  scriptorium. 
The  scene  that  greeted  his  eyes  was  a  busy  one, 
and  yet  one  of  great  charm.  Not  one  black-robed 
form  that  was  not  earnestly  engaged  in  work  of 
some  kind ;  here  one  bending  closely  over  some 
old  Latin  text  that  had  been  destroyed  almost 
beyond  recognition ;  there  one  deftly  engaged  in 
cutting  great  sheets  of  vellum  ;  over  in  a  corner  an 
artist  holding  his  hand  poised  in  uncertainty  over 
several  pots  of  color ;  near  him  was  one  sharpen 
ing  a  quill;  another  patiently  awaited  his  turn 
for  some  longed-for  volume;  and  yet  two  more 
were  carefully  copying  a  score  of  music  with 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING          271 

large  notes,  that  the  beginners  in  the  choir  could 
easily  read  it.  Work,  and  no  shirking  of  it,  yet 
an  atmosphere  of  perfect  peace  and  content,  for 
it  was  work  done  in  joy,  and  therefore  lifted  to 
the  realm  of  Art. 

Oh,  the  wonderful,  indescribable  peace  !  How 
far  off  were  the  turmoil,  the  doubt,  the  responsi 
bility,  the  unjoyful,  incessant  toil,  the  infinite  woe, 
the  weary  burden  of  the  world.  Even  as  the  pio 
neer  monks  had  built  their  monasteries  always  in 
some  hidden  vale  protected  by  high  hills  from  the 
north  winds  that  their  crops  might  flourish,  so  their 
lives  were  protected  from  all  contact  with  the  great 
currents  of  action  that  swept  by  outside.  The 
storm-centres  of  protest  and  unrest,  the  whirlwinds 
of  revolt — all  passed  over  and  around  the  walls  of 
the  monastery,  unknown,  unfelt,  unsuggested. 

Robert  Annys  owed  much  to  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Dunstan.  He  had  been  as  a  helpless  mariner  in 
the  fierce  grip  of  a  storm.  He  had  been  swept 
by  tumultuous  waves,  his  ears  had  been  deafened 
by  the  awful  voices  of  the  warring  elements,  and 
suddenly  he  had  drifted  into  a  sheltered  harbor, 
and  the  same  winds  that  had  beaten  furiously  upon 
him,  here  but  peacefully  rocked  his  bark  upon 
the  quiet  waters. 

Poor  fool !  before  he  had  sought  a  haven  here, 


272  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

how  the  woe  of  the  world  had  weighed  upon  him ! 
How  foolish  he  had  been  to  feel  a  personal  re 
sponsibility  in  the  actions  of  Divine  Providence ! 
There  were  some  mortals  who  acted  as  if  all  the 
wrongs  on  earth  were  to  be  righted  between  sun 
rise  and  sunset.  He  had  been  one  of  those. 
How  faintly  the  echoes  of  his  past  existence  came 
to  him  here. 

He  opened  the  ponderous  volume.  He  had 
been  thinking  the  day  before,  when  the  daylight 
had  faded  and  he  had  reluctantly  left  his  work,  of 
a  new  and  charming  device  for  an  initial  letter  H, 
which  he  had  been  about  to  trace.  It  was  to  be 
something  quite  novel  in  the  way  of  decoration, 
and  he  expected  to  receive  great  approbation  for 
it.  His  fingers  hovered  in  some  uncertainty  over 
the  brushes  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind 
which  one  was  the  very  finest.  Then,  having 
made  the  auspicious  selection,  it  remained  for  him 
to  choose  between  a  paint  of  brilliant  scarlet  or  one 
with  the  depth  of  the  sun-warmed  strawberry  in  it. 
Finally  he  chose  the  brilliant  scarlet.  As  he  bent 
over  the  page,  he  noticed  for  the  first  time  a  slip 
of  paper  which  had  evidently  been  placed  between 
the  pages  of  the  Chronicle  during  his  absence. 

"  The  outbreak  of  the  rustics  at  the  Bury  is  terrorizing  the 
true  and  loyal  men  of  the  realm,"  it  began.  "  On  Saturday  last, 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          273 

under  the  leadership  of  one  Richard  Meryl,  the  unruly  mob 
attacked  the  abbey  and  plundered  it,  taking  away  a  rich  cross, 
chalices  of  gold,  and  many  jewels,  to  the  amount  of  a  thousand 
pounds,  and  did  much  mischief  to  the  buildings. 

"  The  prior,  Sir  John  de  Cambridge,  fled,  under  cover  of 
darkness,  hoping  to  reach  Ely.  But  the  following  day  the  mob 
discovered  him  in  the  woods  near  Newmarket.  They  con 
ducted  him  to  Newmarket,  where,  all  night  long,  they  did  most 
blasphemously  mock  him ;  kneeling  before  him,  they  cried, 
'  Hail  Master  ! '  and  striking  him  with  their  hands,  they  cried, 
'  Prophesy  who  smote  thee  ! ' 

"  At  break  of  day,  the  rioters  led  their  victim  back  to  Mil- 
denhall,  where  they  were  joined  by  many  people  from  the  Bury. 
Here  they  held  a  council  by  which  the  prior  was  condemned  to 
instant  execution.  After  allowing  him  the  privilege  of  confes 
sion,  his  head  was  severed  from  his  body  at  a  single  blow.  The 
excited  rabble  cried,  '  See  the  traitor's  head  ! '  '  Happy  the  day 
that  sees  our  wish  accomplished  ! ' 

"  Thus  they  came  and  went  as  masters,  those  who  once  had 
been  slaves  of  the  lowest  order." 

The  room  swam  about  him  for  an  instant.  He 
was  obliged  to  clutch  the  high  desk  upon  which 
the  folio  rested  to  save  himself  from  falling.  He 
looked  at  the  indifferent  backs  of  the  monks  bend 
ing  over  their  work;  a  great  fury  came  over  him, 
and  he  longed  to  strike  and  beat  them,  that  they 
could  so  placidly  pore  over  their  books,  while  this 
thing  was  going  on  outside.  Before  his  agitation 
was  noticed,  he  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  ask 
permission  to  leave  the  scriptorium  and  seek  the 

air  in  the  close. 
T 


274  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XXVI 

THE  great  Uprising  had  come.  The  world 
stood  utterly  aghast  at  the  spectacle  of  the  plain 
rustics  throwing  down  the  plough  and  shoulder 
ing  the  axe  against  their  rightful  lords  and  mas 
ters.  The  bravest  warriors  shrank  affrighted 
before  the  poorly  accoutred  insurgents,  for  the 
terror  of  a  new  Idea  was  upon  them.  What  was 
this  strange  force  that  was  turning  upside  down 
the  recognized  laws  of  society  ?  Behind  the 
rusty,  cracked  weapons  of  the  mob  stalked  the 
spectre  of  a  coming  Democracy.  No  wonder 
that  the  most  hardened  warriors  quailed  at  the 
thought  of  fighting  an  intangible  foe.  No  won 
der  that  the  most  skilful  captains  lost  their  heads 
and  stood  agape. 

Ah,  where  was  that  orderly  assembly  of  which 
Annys  had  so  fondly  dreamed  ?  That  assembly  of 
fifty  thousand  strong  gathering  together  from  all 
parts  of  the  realm  to  appear  in  all  loyalty  and 
obedience  before  their  King? 

In  the  close  he  paced  up  and  down  in  feverish 
excitement.  The  moment  toward  which  for  so 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          275 

long  his  eyes  had  been  strained  had  at  last 
arrived.  Without  him  the  people  were  assem 
bling  and  marching  on  to  seek  the  King  and 
have  their  wrongs  redressed.  Without  him  — 
yes,  and  without  his  restraining  touch.  What 
he  had  dreaded,  then,  had  happened  —  the  wild 
beast  which  had  slumbered  for  so  long  within 
the  breasts  of  the  rustics  was  now  awake  and 
growling  forth  its  rage.  The  forces  of  greed  and 
revenge,  of  hatred  and  envy,  were  unloosed  upon 
society,  and  no  one  apparently  had  the  power  to 
chain  them  again. 

"  Behold,  we  are  honest  men "  —  he  had 
dreamed  they  would  say  —  "working  and  travail 
ing  from  dawn  to  sunset,  and  with  but  little  in  our 
stomachs  and  less  on  our  backs.  Thus  do  we 
labor,  valued  at  less  than  our  master's  sheep,  and 
hardly  as  much  as  his  swine.  Yet,  nevertheless, 
are  we  men  created  in  the  divine  image  of  God,  as 
Holy  Writ  tells  us,  men  even  like  unto  you,  O 
King,  alike  born  and  buried  and  taken  up  into 
immortality  or  cast  down  into  the  pit  of  hell.  We 
are  judged,  not  by  the  extent  of  our  possessions 
by  the  Great  Judge  of  the  Universe,  but  by  that 
which  lieth  in  our  hearts.  We  want,  O  King,  to 
be  free  men.  We  ask  that  there  be  no  further 
serfs  in  all  England.  Let  all  work  be  free  and 


276  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

willing  and  it  will  be  the  better  for  us  all  —  for 
our  masters  as  well  as  for  us." 

Was  there  no  one  in  all  the  broad  land  to  re 
strain  the  people  from  violence  and  tell  them  that 
they  were  ruining  their  own  cause?  No  one? 
A  voice  whispered  within  him  that  there  had 
been  one,  but  he  had  deserted  the  cause  and  with 
drawn  himself  into  a  monastery,  and  was  more  con 
cerned  with  the  doings  of  the  Past,  alack !  than 
the  moulding  of  the  Future. 

Yet  surely  he  could  not  be  the  only  one.  He 
shrank  from  realizing  to  the  full  the  consequences 
of  his  own  action.  And  Richard  !  Hot-headed, 
misguided  Richard  at  the  head !  It  was  terrible  ! 

He  must  know  the  worst.  Perhaps  the  ac 
counts  had  been  exaggerated.  Perhaps  there  was 
yet  worse  to  come.  In  any  case,  as  chronicler,  it 
was  his  duty  to  discover  by  what  means  the  news 
had  been  brought.  He  inquired  of  a  brother,  and 
learned  that  the  news  had  been  brought  from  the 
Bury  by  a  messenger  who  had  lingered  and  in 
sisted  upon  having  audience  with  the  chroni 
cler. 

"  With  me  ?  Some  one  seeks  audience  with 
me  ?  "  he  asked  uneasily. 

He  paced  up  and  down  restlessly  while  the 
other  went  to  conduct  the  messenger  to  him. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          277 

Who  could  it  be?  he  had  cut  himself  so  completely 
from  the  world  and  its  affairs. 

He  was  amazed  to  recognize  in  the  messenger 
young  Robert  Shepherd,  whom  he  had  known  at 
the  Bury. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  began  eagerly,  "  you  are  from 
the  Bury.  Is  it  so  bad,  then  ?  The  Uprising  has 
begun?" 

"  Begun  ?  Ah,  of  a  truth  begun  !  There  is  no 
ending  it  now,  save  the  whole  land  lie  at  our 
feet ! " 

"  But  how  comes  it  that  Robert  Shepherd 
brings  the  news,  written  by  one  clearly  against 
us?" 

The  lad  reddened.  "It  was  safer  not  to  refuse 
the  monk's  request,"  he  said,  "  and  it  did  no  harm 
to  the  Cause.  Let  the  monks  rant  as  they  will. 
We  have  wrung  the  freedom  of  the  town  from 
them.  They  were  all  in  a  panic.  Besides,"  he 
added,  "  I  bear  with  me  also  another  message  of 
very  different  complexion." 

But  of  this  Annys  took  no  heed.  "  Tell  me," 
he  urged,  "  Richard  Meryl,  my  friend,  he  was  there, 
a  leader  among  them  —  what  of  him  ?  " 

"  Ah,  do  not  ask  me,"  faltered  Shepherd.  "  It 
is  too  terrible." 

Annys  grasped  one  of  the  pillars  for  support 


378  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  What,  Richard !  hurt  ?  dead  ?  quick,  what  has 
happened  ? " 

"  Yea,  he  is  dead,"  answered  the  lad,  solemnly. 

For  an  instant  Annys  swayed.  He  placed  one 
hand  on  his  heart,  and  closed  his  eyes.  The  other 
looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"  Tell  me  all !  "  ordered  Annys,  hoarsely. 

"  It  was  terrible,  yet  it  was  fine  too.  He  ex 
posed  himself  recklessly,  and  was  caught,  and  they 
offered  his  freedom,  if  he  would  but  persuade  his 
followers  to  give  back  the  charters  to  the  monks, 
and  disperse  in  orderly  fashion  to  their  homes." 

"  Ah !  and  he  ?  " 

"  They  led  him,  the  next  day,  bound  securely, 
to  the  market  place,  where  he  addressed  the  men. 
Some  of  them  looked  up  at  him  sullenly,  and  they 
murmured  threateningly,  for  they  had  been  told 
that  he  had  purchased  his  life  with  their  defeat. 

"  But  he  fooled  them  all,  for  he  stood  there  look 
ing  proudly  down  upon  them,  with  the  sky  no 
bluer  than  his  eyes,  and  his  fair  hair  curled  as  a 
little  child's  low  over  his  brow  and  neck.  Ah,  I 
tell  you  an  Ave  rose  to  my  lips  —  for  I  never  once 
doubted  him  —  as  I  saw  him  standing  there,  so 
brave,  so  glorious  —  " 

"  Ah,  I  wist  well  how  glorious  !  "  groaned  Annys, 
brokenly. 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          279 

"  And  no  sooner  was  there  silence  than  he  cried 
out  clearly  so  that  all  could  hear :  — 

" '  Fellows  !  Take  no  thought  for  my  trouble,  for 
if  I  die,  I  shall  die  for  the  cause  of  Freedom  which 
we  have  won,  counting  myself  happy  to  end  my 
life  by  such  a  martyrdom.  Do,  then,  to-day  as  ye 
would  have  done,  had  I  been  killed  yesterday.' " 

"  My  brave  Richard  !     And  then  ?  " 

"And  then  an  axe  crashed  through  his  skull. 
But  his  murderers  did  not  live  long  enough  to 
gloat  over  their  work." 

"  Richard,  my  brother !  That  I  had  died  for 
thee ! " 

The  lad  was  deeply  affected  by  his  own  recital. 
He  remained  silent  an  instant  and  then  said  sud 
denly  :  — 

"  But  I  waste  precious  time.  I  bear  an  urgent 
message  from  Matilda  that  you  should  go  at  once 
to  Ely." 

"  To  Ely  ?     I  ?     Wherefore  ?  " 

"  Her  message  I  committed  to  memory,  word  for 
word :  '  It  is  too  late  to  do  aught  at  the  Bury,  but 
fly  to  Ely,  that  the  people  can  be  saved  from  grave 
danger.' " 

"  How  knows  she  this  ?  " 

"  Her  cousin  Rose  sent  to  her  from  Ely,  from 
the  Castle." 


280  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Rose  at  the  Castle  ?  " 

"  Knew  you  not  she  has  long  been  the  Baron's 
favorite  ? " 

"  My  God  !     I  cannot  go  there  ! " 

"  But  it  must  be.  Her  message  to  Matilda  ran 
that  no  one  but  Robert  Annys  could  save  the 
people." 

"  Ah,  that  I  could  save  them ! "  His  head  drooped. 
"Alas,  alas,  I  have  forfeited  that  right.  They 
would  not  listen  to  a  monk.  They  would  spurn 


me." 


"  Nay,  trust  Matilda  for  that.  Until  this  day  I 
thought  —  and  all  thought  —  Robert  Annys  was 
in  Kent." 

"  How  can  that  be  ? "  he  asked,  bewildered. 
"  She  knew  where  I  was." 

"  Aye,  but  she  always  hoped  you  would  come 
back  to  us,  and  kept  your  place  ready  for  you. 
'Tis  only  to  place  yourself  again  at  our  head ! " 

Annys  was  stirred  to  the  depths  at  this  reve 
lation  of  Matilda's  devotion.  Ah,  this  was  the 
true  heart  he  had  wounded,  the  love  he  had 
turned  from ! 

"Well,  God  grant  thee  right!"  he  said.  "I 
pray  so." 

"  Here  is  a  minstrel's  garb  and  badge,"  said 
Shepherd,  "sent  by  Rose  to  gain  admission  un- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          281 

questioned  to  the  Castle,  for  the  gentles  are 
greatly  incensed  against  all  poor  priests,  at  whose 
door  they  do  lay  all  the  mischief.  The  Baron  is 
engaged  in  securing  minstrels  from  all  over 
England  for  his  great  feast.  Approach  as  one  of 
those." 

"A  feast?  Wherefore  gives  he  a  feast,  just  at 
this  time?" 

"  In  honor  of  his  bride  who  —  " 

"  His  bride  ?  I  thought —  and  what  of  Rose  ?  " 
stammered  Annys. 

"  Oh,  Rose  Westel  will  get  lovers  a  plenty  while 
men  walk  the  earth  who  have  two  eyes  in  their 
head." 

"  Peace,  peace,  enough,  fellow  !  " 

"  Will  you  go  to  Ely  Castle  ?  " 

"  Go  ?  You  say  I  can  save  the  people  from 
grave  danger.  Then  all  the  abbots  in  Christendom 
could  not  hold  me  !  " 

And  as  he  crossed  the  stone  walk  of  the  clois 
ter,  he  walked  with  a  firmer  tread  and  held  his 
head  higher  than  at  any  time  since  he  had  entered 
the  Abbey  of  St.  Dunstan. 


282  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 


XXVII 

SHEPHERD  had  spoken  truly.  The  powerful 
Baron  de  Leaufort  had  wedded  the  sister  of  the 
great  French  Count  Henri  de  Harfleur.  The 
match  had  been  arranged  solely  by  the  efforts  of 
the  wily  Legate,  who  had  whispered  of  the  charms 
and  worldly  goods  of  the  Countess  Flavie,  in  the 
hopes  of  further  cementing  the  union  between 
the  Church  and  the  English  Baronage.  The 
serfs  might  recover  their  reason  and  the  Barons 
once  again  might  look  with  envious  eyes  upon 
the  Treasury  of  the  Church.  It  would  do  no 
harm  to  wed  de  Leaufort  to  an  ardent  Catholic 
such  as  the  Countess  had  long  since  proved  her 
self  to  be. 

This  was  the  motive  that  brought  the  Cardinal 
Barsini  to  Ely  Castle,  but  on  seeing  Rose  Westel, 
he  speedily  discovered  a  new  incentive  to  succeed 
in  his  mission.  He  went  so  far  as  to  add  a 
couple  of  thousand  lires  out  of  his  own  pocket  to 
the  dowry  of  the  Countess  when  he  saw  that  the 
Baron  bit  none  too  greedily  at  the  bait.  It  never 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          283 

entered  his  mind  that  he  could  possibly  fail  to 
find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  Rose  Westel,  since 
he  had  not  been  accustomed  to  encounter  oppo 
sition  where  he  chose  to  distribute  his  favors. 
But  from  the  instant  that  Rose  caught  sight  of 
the  smooth,  complacent  face  of  the  Nuncio,  and 
noted  the  quick  leap  in  his  eyes  as  they  dwelt  on 
her,  it  seemed  as  if  an  icy  hand  had  suddenly 
clutched  at  her  heart.  Something  told  her  that 
her  happiness  was  at  an  end.  And  she  had  been 
so  happy,  ecstatically  happy.  She  had  grown  to 
love  de  Leaufort  with  that  kind  of  love  which 
would  have  stayed  with  her  had  he  not  possessed 
a  groat  in  the  world.  Gladly  would  she  have  fol 
lowed  him  to  the  wars  and  endured  any  hardships 
so  that  she  might  remain  by  his  side.  There 
were  times  when  she  longed  ardently  that  he 
might  meet  with  reverses  so  she  might  prove 
to  him  how  unselfish  was  her  devotion;  she 
feared  that  the  very  ease  of  her  life  cheapened 
her  love  for  him  in  his  eyes  —  made  it  more 
a  matter  of  mere  circumstance  than  it  really 
was. 

One  day  the  Legate  had  graciously  taken  her 
into  his  confidence,  and  told  her  of  his  plans  both 
for  the  future  of  the  Baron  and  for  herself.  She 
had  shrunk  from  him  and  fled  to  her  lover,  pant- 


284  ROBERT  ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

ing  and  weeping  and  raving  and  acting  precisely 
as  she  would  not  have  done  had  the  terrible 
shock  left  one  grain  of  reason  in  her  head. 

It  was  after  this  scene  with  her  that  the  Legate 
had  seen  fit  to  increase  the  dowry  of  the  Count 
ess. 

When  the  Baron  returned  with  his  bride,  she 
was  accompanied  by  a  gay  retinue,  and  the  Castle 
was  splendidly  decorated  in  her  honor  with  great 
streamers  and  banners  thrown  out  from  floor  to 
floor,  and  the  finest  of  tapestries  and  yards  and 
yards  of  cloth  of  gold  hung  on  the  walls  of  the 
chambers.  Watchers  had  been  set  in  the  highest 
tower  so  that  the  party  might  not  arrive  unan 
nounced,  and  on  the  very  first  sign  of  their 
approach,  the  Baron's  sister,  accompanied  by  a 
party  of  guests,  descended  the  terrace  to  greet 
them.  At  first  but  a  tiny  speck  of  color  could 
be  made  out,  creeping  along  the  furthest  line 
of  poplars  that  fringed  the  river  as  it  drowsily 
turned  and  twisted  upon  itself,  a  slender  thread 
of  sunlight  far  off  in  the  distant  fens.  A  woman, 
faint  and  sick  with  watching  and  weeping,  peered 
from  the  slit  in  the  tower,  and  fastened  her  eyes 
on  that  speck  of  color  which  broadened  at  every 
turn,  and  slowly  resolved  itself  into  many  colors, 
and  at  last  into  the  separate  forms  of  people  on 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          285 

horseback — so  that  she  could  distinguish  one 
from  the  other,  so  that  her  restless,  searching 
eyes  could  make  out  the  Countess  to  be  a  frail- 
looking  woman  whose  tight-fitting  riding-habit 
revealed  every  line  of  her  slender,  elegant  form. 
She  was  glad  to  see  that  her  expressionless  face 
was  rendered  yet  more  so  by  the  foolish  reigning 
fashion  of  plucking  the  hair  from  the  eyebrows  in 
order  to  heighten  the  forehead. 

Far,  far  down  at  her  feet,  from  below  the  draw 
bridge,  a  bit  of  blue  flashed  up  at  her.  She 
shivered,  for  she  knew  it  was  the  moat  onto  which 
her  mother  in  her  despair  had  flung  herself  from 
the  lower  parapet.  The  retinue  came  nearer,  she 
could  see  that  there  were  several  chaplains  and 
ladies  in  waiting  among  them,  but  no  one  was  so 
noble  looking  as  the  Baron  in  a  tight-fitting  coat- 
hardy  of  crimson  with  green  shoulder  pieces,  and 
wearing  a  beautiful  crimson  cap  with  a  square 
top  and  a  rosette  of  gold  in  the  centre. 

For  some  time  after  the  arrival  of  the  party, 
there  was  a  great  stir  about  the  Castle,  for  the 
Countess  had  brought  many  gifts  which  had  to 
be  unpacked  and  arranged  in  their  proper  places. 
There  were  great  oaken  chests  containing  priestly 
vestments  for  the  chaplains,  of  cloth  of  gold,  of 
cerulean  tissue  embroidered  all  over  with  images 


286  ROBERT  ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

of  the  Trinity  and  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  an 
altar-cloth  for  the  chapel,  of  white  velvet  embroid 
ered  with  a  representation  of  the  Salutation  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  and  also  for  the  chapel  a  chalice, 
paten,  censer,  alms-dish,  bowls,  chandeliers,  an  ex 
quisite  vase  for  the  holy  water,  a  group  of  little 
silver  bells  for  the  Mass,  everything  of  the  very 
choicest  and  finest.  Then  there  was  a  great  bed 
cover  and  curtains  of  Tripoli  silk  wrought  with 
dragons  in  combat,  the  deep  border  embroidered 
with  a  vine  pattern,  the  whole  powdered  with  be 
zants  of  gold.  And  there  were  tapestries  for  two 
receiving  rooms,  of  which  one  was  embroidered 
with  popinjays  in  worsted  and  the  other  with 
roses  and  other  flowers  in  silks.  Also  the  Count 
ess  brought  a  handsome  salt-cellar  of  silver  gilt 
with  quaint  carvings,  and  studded  with  rare  jew 
els,  for  the  great  table,  and  there  were  gowns  of 
scarlet  and  azure  and  purple  velvets  embroidered 
and  powdered  over  with  small  pearls,  and  there 
were  double  cloaks,  hoods,  and  mantles  for  riding, 
besides  saddles  for  herself  and  her  chamber-women, 
and  her  bridal  dress,  which  required  careful  hand 
ling,  for  it  was  of  great  magnificence,  of  cloth  of 
gold  tissue,  with  a  mantle  and  kirtle  to  corre 
spond. 

To  do  fitting  honor  to  his  bride,  de  Leaufort 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         287 

had  long  since  made  preparations  on  a  vast  scale 
for  a  great  banquet,  sparing  no  pains  to  make  it 
the  finest  and  rarest  that  had  ever  been  held  in 
those  parts.  It  was  well  to  do  honor  to  his  French 
bride,  and  also  it  was  doubly  well  to  give  some 
notion  to  the  King  of  his  great  resources,  for 
there  were  times  when  even  Kings  had  to  be 
duly  impressed  with  the  power  of  their  Barons  ; 
and  it  was  well  also  for  the  insolent  peasants, 
who  were  creating  disturbances  here  and  there, 
to  be  a  bit  overawed  by  a  great  show  of  wealth 
and  state. 

For  some  weeks  in  advance  he  had  caused  mes 
sages  to  be  carried  all  over  the  land  offering  lib 
eral  pay  to  all  the  minstrels  who  would  come  to 
the  Castle  with  their  instruments,  so  that  when 
all  were  finally  gathered  together  there  were  over 
two  hundred  minstrels,  with  their  harps,  their 
psalteries,  their  rotes  and  rebecs,  their  gitternes, 
cymbals,  and  tabors. 

The  land  was  scoured  for  all  possible  delicacies; 
messengers  were  sent  in  hot  haste  to  the  coast  to 
secure  fresh  fish  and  fetch  it  back  on  fast  horses 
so  that  it  would  arrive  untainted  by  the  rays 
of  the  hot  sun.  Great  pasties  were  made  and 
filled  with  partridges  and  quails,  with  skylarks 
and  thrushes ;  and  there  were  jellies  that  quivered 


288  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

mountain-high  in  every  possible  hue ;  while  stags, 
huge  loins  of  beef,  swans,  peacocks,  and  capons 
were  delivered  at  the  door  of  the  kitchen  in  an 
unending  stream. 

The  Countess  made  herself  exceedingly  unpop 
ular  by  insisting  for  some  days  after  her  arrival 
on  partaking  of  her  meals  in  private,  —  she  with 
the  Baron  and  her  own  party  and  the  Legate  and 
only  one  or  two  others  in  the  private  chamber, 
the  solar  of  the  Castle.  She  insisted  upon  it  that 
the  most  refined  of  the  aristocracy  were  doing 
away  with  the  eating  of  dinners  in  the  great  Hall, 
which  she  considered  extremely  vulgar.  To  this 
whim  of  his  bride  de  Leaufort  gave  way  very  re 
luctantly,  for  well  he  knew  the  storm  that  would 
be  raised  about  his  ears  at  this  departure  from  the 
established  custom,  which  had  been  good  enough 
for  his  uncle  and  his  uncle's  father  and  grand 
father,  and  as  far  back  as  the  line  extended.  For 
the  dinner  in  the  great  Hall  was  one  of  the  chief 
institutions  about  which  centred  the  social  life  of 
feudal  days.  Here  the  highest  nobility  and  the 
plain  folk  might  meet  under  one  roof  as  the  mem 
bers  of  one  great  family.  The  most  ill-mannered 
clout,  who  could  not  eat  his  meat  without  drip 
ping  the  gravy  all  over  his  chin  and  down  upon  his 
breast,  could  learn  daintiness  and  skill  from  the 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING          289 

gentles  who  could  deftly  use  their  fingers  without 
a  single  drop  falling  where  it  should  not.  Those 
into  whose  lives  beauty  and  grace  entered  all  too 
seldom  could  feast  their  eyes  upon  the  most  beau 
tiful  ladies  in  the  land,  their  ears  upon  the  most 
beautiful  music  of  the  day,  and  their  grosser  senses 
upon  the  best  of  wine  and  food,  —  all  at  the  ex 
pense  of  their  lord,  whose  hospitality  was  never 
questioned.  Surely,  if  it  came  about  that  the 
quality  withdrew  themselves  into  chambers  shut 
off  from  the  rest  of  the  house,  all  the  music  and 
song  and  merriment  would  leave  the  great  Hall, 
and  if  it  were  no  longer  used  for  feasts  and  merry 
making,  who  knew  how  long  before  the  goodly 
habit  of  spreading  rushes  on  the  floor  for  the 
night  might  also  be  given  up,  and  the  lonely  trav 
eller  be  forced  to  seek  quarters  in  some  foul  and 
filthy  inn,  where  the  fleas  would  see  to  it  that  he 
rose  on  the  morrow  more  eagerly  than  he  lay 
himself  down  at  night. 

So  at  least  for  this  banquet,  the  Baron  was  de 
termined  to  have  his  own  way  and  cling  to  the 
good  old  customs,  save  that  he  set  the  time  much 
later  than  the  usual  noon  hour,  that  the  feast 
could  last  well  on  into  the  night,  —  an  unwonted 
dissipation  that  would  make  the  occasion  all  the 
more  memorable. 


29o  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Two  hours  before  sunset  the  blare  of  the  trum 
pets  summoned  the  guests,  who  gathered  together 
in  the  great  Court  and  then  entered  the  Hall  two 
by  two,  and  made  their  way  along  the  rows  of 
tables  set  the  length  of  the  Hall.  At  these  tables 
stood  a  crowd  of  lesser  guests  and  retainers  who 
watched  the  guests  of  honor  proceed  to  the  upper 
end  of  the  room,  and  mount  the  steps  which  led 
to  the  carpeted  dais  upon  which  stood  the  splen 
did  high  table  of  carved  oak,  now  covered  com 
pletely  with  a  cloth  of  fringed  and  embroidered 
white  silk  strewn  with  aromatic  herbs. 

First  came  the  Baron  Edmond  de  Leaufort,  his 
under  short  coat  of  white,  elaborately  embroid 
ered  in  gold,  with  a  long  mantle  of  royal  blue 
velvet  reaching  to  his  toes,  and  falling  over  his 
shoulders  into  a  great  train,  which,  if  measured, 
would  have  come  to  three  yards  in  length  and 
more  than  a  dozen  yards  in  width.  The  hood 
and  the  entire  length  and  breadth  of  the  man 
tle  were  edged  with  gold,  upon  which  were  em 
broidered  flowers  of  blue  with  leaves  of  green. 
The  wide,  loose  sleeves,  lined  in  a  silk  of  delicate 
rose  color,  hung  down  from  the  elbows  in  a  long 
point  which  just  escaped  the  ground.  The  hosen, 
which  fit  so  snugly  about  his  calves  as  to  neces 
sitate  a  sewing  on  at  each  wearing,  were  of  differ- 


A  TALE  OF  THE  GREAT  UPRISING         291 

ent  colors,  one  of  brilliant  scarlet,  and  the  other 
of  white,  while  the  long  pointed  shoes  were  of 
scarlet.  His  hair,  curled  low  over  his  neck  and 
ears,  rested  on  a  stiff  ruff  of  fine  white  lace 
studded  with  pearls,  while  over  his  breast  hung 
a  long  golden  chain  of  finest  workmanship,  almost 
touching  the  links  of  yet  another  chain  of  like 
sort  which  was  worn  as  a  girdle  low  about  his 
waist.  The  Countess  by  his  side  was  gowned  in 
a  kirtle  of  scarlet  cendal,  laced  close  to  the  body, 
over  which  fell  in  graceful  folds  a  mantle  of  rich 
green  velvet,  edged  with  an  intricate  pattern  out 
lined  in  seed  pearls.  The  sleeves  of  the  kirtle 
were  as  tight  as  the  hosen  of  the  Baron,  and 
necessitated  on  each  robing  the  same  manoeuvres 
with  thread  and  needle.  About  her  hair  (which 
had  been  freshly  washed  in  wine  to  give  it  the 
fashionable  gloss)  was  wound  a  gorget  of  finest 
white  linen  striped  with  wires  of  gold,  which, 
after  being  turned  two  or  three  times  about  the 
neck  and  fastened  by  a  great  quantity  of  pins, 
had  been  raised  on  each  side  of  the  face  until 
it  resembled  two  great  horns — a  fashion  which 
certainly  gave  a  threatening  aspect  to  the  fair 
and  elegant  ladies  of  the  day. 

All  the  guests  of  both  sexes  were  arrayed  in 
their  most  sumptuous  robes  to  do  honor  to  the 


292  ROBERT   ANNYS:    POOR   PRIEST 

feast;  yet  perhaps  in  the  breast  of  some  of  them 
was  a  certain  chagrin  that  it  was  not  the 
cold  season,  so  that  they  might  have  displayed 
their  rare  and  costly  ermines,  the  pride  and  joy  of 
the  aristocracy.  Notwithstanding  the  absence  of 
furs,  which  perhaps  were  the  costliest  of  all  articles 
of  apparel,  there  yet  was  enough  gold  spent  on 
the  backs  of  the  nobles  assembled  there  to  have 
clothed  in  russet  cloth  the  whole  of  England. 

On  the  procession  moved  with  stately  grace  to 
the  accompaniment  of  the  instruments  above  in 
the  oriole,  the  great  folk  smiling  and  chatting 
among  themselves,  while  the  others  looked  on  in 
silence.  One  there  was,  a  wild-eyed  man,  tall  and 
lank,  in  a  priest's  cassock,  who  looked  on  while  the 
procession  passed  him,  in  silence  it  is  true,  yet  his 
face  speaking  a  language  more  eloquent  than  that 
of  the  tongue,  with  a  look  of  contempt  and  hate 
and  bitter  scorn.  Notwithstanding  this,  it  was  not 
very  long  before  this  same  fellow  seemed  to  have 
utterly  forgot  his  indignation  in  his  satisfaction 
over  the  dainty  food  that  was  placed  before  him. 

While  the  trumpets  blew  a  triumphant  fan-fare 
the  guests  seated  themselves  at  the  high  table  so 
that  their  faces  were  turned  toward  those  below, 
the  great  ewers  of  chased  gold  and  silver  were 
passed  by  lackeys  who  kneeled  before  them,  fol- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         293 

lowed  by  others  bearing  napkins  of  dainty  linen, 
grace  was  said  by  the  elegant,  courtly  Legate,  and 
the  guests  were  paired  off  by  twos  to  eat  from  the 
same  trenchers  and  to  drink  from  the  same  jew 
elled  goblets.  At  last  the  servitors  marched  in 
triumphantly  bearing  the  elaborately  decorated 
dishes  high  up  over  their  heads  that  all  might  see 
and  applaud.  As  the  feast  proceeded  with  great 
merriment,  the  going  down  of  the  sun  slowly  cast 
the  vast  chamber  into  gloom.  At  a  word  from 
the  host,  the  great  candelabra  of  gold  carven  into 
all  sorts  of  odd  designs  were  borne  in  with  the  tall 
waxen  candles  all  alight,  and  set  along  the  table. 
Along  the  lower  end  of  the  Hall  tall  powerful 
fellows  held  flaming  torches  in  their  hands  for 
the  illumination  of  the  lesser  tables  which  bore  no 
costly  candelabra,  and  at  the  same  time  for  the 
comfort  of  the  lackeys  ranged  along  the  wall 
dealing  out  wine  from  the  huge  casks  that  were 
being  rolled  into  the  Hall  in  a  steady  procession. 
As  one  by  one  these  flambeau-bearers  took 
their  places,  flinging,  as  they  moved,  irregular 
spots  of  light  into  the  gathering  darkness,  there 
stole  in  among  the  many  minstrels  gathered  high 
up  in  the  oriole  overhead,  one  who  bore  little  re 
semblance  to  his  comrades.  It  was  a  face  one 
would  expect  to  find  bowing  low  before  the  altar, 


294  ROBERT  ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

or  elevating  the  host,  not  singing  the  ribald  songs 
that  often  enlivened  the  feasts  of  the  great.  But 
as  the  fellow  wore  conspicuously  upon  his  shoul 
der  the  badge  of  the  Baron's  minstrels,  no  further 
heed  was  taken  of  him  by  them  than  to  sit  closer 
together,  that  he  could  get  a  view  of  what  was 
going  on  below. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         295 


XXVIII 

THE  newcomer  up  in  the  oriole  looked  down 
upon  the  scene  before  him  as  if  bewildered  by  the 
weird  sight.  Every  now  and  then  he  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands  as  if  to  shut  out  the  picture,  and 
then  suddenly  raised  it  again  to  stare  wildly, 
while  his  lips  moved  constantly  as  if  in  prayer. 
The  vast  height  of  the  great  groined  roof  left  the 
whole  upper  portion  of  the  Hall  in  darkness,  with 
here  and  there  a  bit  of  carving  thrown  out  into 
sudden  relief  by  a  flickering  torch  uplifted  in  the 
arms  of  one  below.  Here  some  fierce  dragon 
flung  itself  from  the  gloom,  and  as  suddenly 
retreated;  there  some  monstrous  carved  face 
grinned  for  an  instant  and  fell  back;  a  griffin 
claw  struck  at  the  blackness  and  was  itself  over 
come  ;  the  deep  recesses  in  the  mullioned  win 
dows  were  the  home  of  grewsome  mysteries. 
The  great  table  on  the  raised  dais  was  brilliantly 
illuminated  in  spots  where  the  tall  gold  candela 
bra  stood.  The  centrepiece  stood  out  clearly,  a 
swan  in  full  plumage,  its  beak  gilded,  its  body  sil- 


296  ROBERT   ANNYS :    POOR   PRIEST 

vered,  resting  on  a  mass  of  brown  pastry  painted 
green  to  represent  a  field  of  grass.  Eight  ban 
ners  of  rose-colored  silk  surrounded  this  piece  de 
resistance  and  a  cloth  of  the  same  covered  the 
mound  upon  which  it  was  placed,  so  that  it  tow 
ered  high  above  all  the  other  dishes.  Along  the 
table  shone  great  golden  goblets  with  wide-open 
lids  studded  with  gleaming  jewels,  silver  and  gold 
salt-cellars  of  strange  designs,  and  the  nef,  a  great 
ship  of  gold,  enamelled  with  dragons,  on  four 
golden  wheels,  containing  spices  and  sweetmeats. 
Also  there  were,  rare  sight  indeed,  forks  of  gilded 
silver  with  exquisitely  wrought  handles,  a  gift  from 
the  Countess  looked  upon  with  small  favor  by  the 
conservative  Baron. 

Between  the  tiny  spots  of  light,  amid  the  glitter 
of  gold  and  silver,  gleamed  the  rich  colors  of  the 
costumes,  crimson  and  peacock  and  emerald,  cen- 
dals  of  delicate  blue  and  royal  purple,  and  the 
sparkle  of  rare  jewels.  The  light  fell  here  and 
there  on  the  face  of  some  bearded  noble  or  gentle 
lady,  while  immediately  above  these,  from  the  tap 
estried  wall,  showed  proud  peacocks,  clusters  of 
flowers,  or  scenes  from  the  chase.  Over  the  head 
of  de  Leaufort  hung  the  arms  of  his  house,  while 
it  chanced  that  just  above  the  Legate  snarled  the 
hideous  fangs  of  a  wolf  standing  at  bay. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          297 

As  the  trembling  Dante  gazed  awestruck  down 
into  the  pit  of  Hell,  so  Annys  —  for  the  new 
comer  was  he  —  thinking  of  the  great  Florentine, 
looked  down  from  the  oriole  on  the  scene  of 
revelry  before  him.  A  light  song  floated  down 
from  the  minstrels,  silencing  the  gay  chatter, 
and  turning  upwards  the  faces  of  all.  Among 
them  flashed  for  an  instant  the  one  face  that 
stood  between  Annys  and  the  Grace  of  God  — 
the  most  beautiful  face  in  all  England,  and  now 
the  saddest  as  well. 

"  Sumer  is  icumen  in, 

Thude  sing  cuccu ; 
Groweth  seed,  and  bloweth  mead, 
And  springeth  the  wod  nu, 
Sing  cuccu  ! " 

Then  followed  the  chorus :  — 

"  Cuccu,  cuccu,  well  singes  thu,  cuccu, 

Ne  cease  thu  never  nu. 
Sing  cuccu,  nu,  sing,  cuccu, 

Sing  cuccu,  sing  cuccu  nu  ! 

Next  came  a  quaint  request  from  a  sturdy 
throat  which  delighted  especially  those  at  the 
lower  tables :  — 

"  Brynge  us  home  good  ale,  sir,  brynge  us  home  good  ale. 
And  for  our  der  lady  love,  brynge  us  home  good  ale. 


298  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

Brynge  us  home  no  beff,  sir,  for  that  ys  full  of  bonys, 

But  brynge  us  home  good  ale  inowgh,  for  I  love  wyle  that. 

Brynge  us  home  no  mutton,  sir,  for  that  ys  togh  and  lene, 

Brynge  us  home  no  veal,  sir,  for  that  will  not  due  — 

But  brynge  us  home  good  ale  inogh  to  drynke  by  the  fyr." 

These  verses  done  with,  a  bold  spirit  from 
Oxford  arose  at  one  of  the  lower  tables  and 
launched  forth  the  famous  students'  drinking 
song  —  a  parody  on  the  Latin  hymn  "Alleluia." 

It  came  as  a  not  unapt  reply  to  the  request  of 
the  thirsty  soul :  — 

"  You  will  see 
The  ale  will  make  us  sing 
Alleluia  ! 

All  of  us 
If  the  ale  is  as  it  should  be, 

A  wonderful  thing 
Res  Miranda  ! 

Drink  of  it  when  you  hold  the  jug ; 

Tis  a  most  proper  thing 

For  it  is  a  good  long  way  from  sun  to  star 

Sol  de  Stella  ! 
Drink  well !     Drink  deep  ! 
It  will  flow  for  you  from  the  tun  ever  clear 

Semper  Clara ! " 

"  Beasts,"  thought  Annys,  "  can  they  then  make 
a  jest  of  the  most  sacred  hymns?  Is  there  no 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         299 

sense  of  shame  among  them  all  that  they  laugh 
so  immoderately  ? " 

Small  wonder  that,  looking  down  upon  them, 
the  thought  of  Hell  came  to  him.  Surely  among 
them  all  was  no  thought  of  Heaven  or  Grace,  or 
Pity  or  Fellowship.  Here  were  all  the  appetites, 
Hunger  and  Lust,  and  Envy  together  with  Frivol 
ity,  Extravagance  and  Luxury.  No  thought  here 
for  the  outer  world,  for  poor  Piers  diking  and 
delving  in  the  fields.  A  godless  lot  they  were, 
covered  with  unnecessary  clothing,  filling  them 
selves  with  unnecessary  food  —  each  sense  fed  to 
overflowing  with  rare  odors,  rare  tastes,  rare  sights, 
rare  sounds.  Surely  minions  of  the  evil  one, 
these,  blithely  clutching  at  their  insolent  joys  at 
whatever  shameful  cost  to  those  less  fortunate. 

High  up  in  the  centre  of  the  vast  roof  opened 
the  louvre  through  which  the  smoke  curled  when 
the  great  logs  on  the  andirons  in  the  centre  of  the 
floor  were  lighted.  Through  it  Annys  looked  up 
and  saw  the  quiet  stars  shining  down.  High 
Heaven  looked  on,  nor  sent  a  bolt  crashing  down 
upon  them  all ! 

Suddenly  a  face  struck  at  him  from  a  dark 
corner,  which  was  momentarily  illuminated  by  a 
passing  torch.  It  was  the  haggard  face  of  the 
priest  who  had  sneered  as  the  procession  passed 


300  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

by.  Now  the  fellow  was  engaged  in  cramming 
his  food  down  his  throat  most  voraciously,  taking 
his  wine  in  great  gulps,  and  smacking  his  lips  over 
it  in  a  most  disgustful  manner.  His  hands  trem 
bled  with  eagerness,  and  when  the  lackey  bore 
away  his  horn  cup  to  replenish  it,  his  burning 
eyes  followed  the  fellow  and  never  let  him  out  of 
their  sight  until  his  fingers  closed  again  about  the 
cup.  Annys  could  not  help  giving  forth  a  slight 
sound  like  a  groan,  for  the  shock  was  a  great  one, 
since  this  eager  glutton  beneath  him,  this  churl, 
who  had  apparently  no  thought  above  his  plate 
and  his  stomach,  was  —  would  to  God  there  were 
room  for  doubt !  —  none  other  than  Will  Lang- 
land,  his  revered  poet ;  Will  Langland,  the  pas 
sionate  pleader  for  the  rights  of  the  workers  in  the 
fields ;  Will  Langland,  hater  of  hypocrites,  reviler 
of  lying  priests,  lover  of  justice  and  truth,  wor 
shipper  of  Honest  Toil,  sitting  here  at  the  Baron's 
feast  a  worthless  sycophant. 

Oh,  something  had  gone  awry  with  the  world. 
There  was  no  more  faith  or  honor  in  the  land. 
Independence,  sturdiness  of  character,  honesty  — 
all  an  idle  dream !  His  heart  within  him  seemed 
of  a  sudden  to  burst.  A  black  pall  came  over 
his  sight,  a  great  fury  and  rage  seized  upon  him ; 
he  was  scarcely  longer  master  of  himself;  he 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          301 

longed    to  shout   some    ringing,  defiant    refrain, 
some  song  of  the  people. 

But  he  controlled  himself  with  a  great  effort. 
He  had  come  there  because  his  people  needed 
him.  He  must  not  jeopardize  the  Cause  by 
revealing  his  identity.  So  he  made  his  way  from 
the  oriole,  down  the  winding  stairs,  out  into  the 
night,  a  stifled  sob  on  his  lips. 


302  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XXIX 

WHEN  Annys  approached  the  Castle  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  he  learned  that  the  Baron  had 
gone  to  one  of  his  manors  lying  on  the  highroad 
to  Sudbury,  which  was  the  direct  way  to  the  Mile 
End.  Hearing  of  the  growing  boldness  of  the 
insurgents,  and  having  some  of  his  costliest  pur 
chases  from  the  Stourbridge  Fair  yet  stored  within 
the  Manor  House,  he  thought  it  well  to  bring  them 
to  the  well-protected  Castle. 

On  the  terrace  Annys  hid  himself  behind  an 
abutment  of  a  tower,  and  peered  out  cautiously 
every  now  and  then  to  see  if  any  one  came  by  who 
could  get  word  for  him  to  Rose.  As  he  waited 
there  came  along  Will  Langland,  no  longer  the 
glutton  of  the  night  before,  but  of  a  sad  and 
dejected  mien,  as  if  his  conscience  lay  none  too 
easy  within  his  breast. 

"  Ah,  Robert  Annys ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
recognized  the  poor  priest  whom  he  had  encoun 
tered  several  times  in  the  past.  "  How  comes  it 
I  find  you  not  with  our  new  masters  of  Eng 
land  ?  What  brings  a  poor  priest  within  the 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         303 

Baron's  domains  ?  'Tis  enough  to  make  thy 
head  cease  acquaintance  with  thy  neck." 

"  Better  die  of  an  honest  twist  of  the  neck,  and 
have  done  with  it,  than  from  a  heart  that  breaks 
within  and  slowly  wastes  the  blood  drop  by  drop," 
cried  Annys,  bitterly,  turning  away  his  face.  He 
could  not  bear  it  that  this  man  should  be  his  long- 
idolized  Will  Langland. 

The  poet  looked  at  him  long  and  silently  out 
of  his  deep-seated,  piercing  eyes.  The  lines  about 
his  mouth  deepened;  it  was  evident  that  the  man's 
soul  wept  within  him.  At  last  he  spoke. 

"  Ay !  if  one  did  but  die  of  a  broken  heart.  Ah, 
you  would  not  see  Will  Langland  alive  were  it  so. 
If  it  only  were  vouchsafed  one  to  die.  But  alas, 
when  only  the  heart  is  dead,  we  live  on  and  on, 
and  play  the  fool  to  our  clod  of  clay." 

Annys  regarded  him  impatiently.  "  Little  looked 
you  yestere'en  as  one  whose  heart  was  broken. 
You  seemed  not  unjoyful  sitting  a  beggar  at  my 
Lord  Baron's  table." 

A  queer  look  came  into  Langland's  face.  "  Nay, 
not  as  a  beggar,"  he  interposed  softly,  "  not  as  a 
beggar,  I  keep  my  Lord's  chantry  in  London 
which  he  did  erect  for  the  soul  of  his  mother.  I 
came  but  for  the  feast.  I  return  to  London  to 


morrow." 


304  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Then  worse  than  beggar,  thou,"  broke  out 
Annys,  indignantly.  "Thou,  Will  Langland,  a 
chantry  priest,  chanting  and  mumbling  some 
Latin  words  for  thy  belly's  hunger !  For  do  you 
aught  else  for  the  good  of  the  land?  Do  you  feed 
the  poor,  or  clothe  them?  Are  you  serving  Christ 
if  you  but  mouth  some  words  over  the  empty  pates 
of  the  gentry  so  that  they  have  leave  to  go  and 
lie  as  they  will  ever  after  ?  Can  this  be  he  who 
wrote :  — 

"  '  Faith  without  deeds  is  as  dead  as  a  door-tree  '  ?  " 

Langland  quivered  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow. 
"  Ah,  wot  I  well  what  kind  of  a  man  that  Will 
Langland,  singer  of  Piers,  should  be.  Stay !  If 
it  tortures  you  to  see  in  the  gluttonous,  servile 
chantry  priest  of  yestere'en  the  poet  whom  you 
honored,  doth  it  not  hurt  more,  ay !  a  thousand 
fold  more,  that  very  Will  Langland  ?  Think  you 
there  is  one  word  that  these  hands  have  writ  that 
does  not  rise  up  and  mock  at  me  ?  Think  you  it 
is  a  light  thing  to  be  thus  crucified,  as  it  were,  by 
one's  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  he  went  on,  after  an  instant's  pause, 
during  which  he  looked  sadly  away,  far  into  the 
distant  horizon,  as  if  his  own  words  had  stirred 
many  recollections  within  him,  "surely  I  can 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING          305 

be  no  more  hateful  in  thy  sight  than  in  mine 
own.  Do  I  not  daily  curse  this  weak,  lust- 
loving  clod  of  flesh  that  holdeth  prisoner  a  mind 
that  at  least  once  dreamed  noble  dreams?  Ah, 
Robert  Annys,  thou  wouldst  weep  water  fast 
enough  with  both  eyes  didst  know  one  tenth 
part  of  the  unruth  of  him  who  walks  the  earth 
as  Will  Langland." 

And  he  was  about  to  go,  when  Annys  cried: 
"  Hold !  who  am  I,  indeed,  that  I  should  judge 
thee  ?  Well  wot  I  how  oft  the  deed  fits  ill  with 
the  creed.  But  stay,  canst  get  a  word  to  one  Rose 
Westel  in  the  Castle  ?  But  a  hint  of  my  presence, 
and  she  will  come,  as  she  awaits  me."  Langland 
readily  promised  to  return  to  the  Castle  and  give 
her  the  message,  and  Annys  again  sought  his 
hiding-place. 

He  did  not  have  long  to  wait  before  Rose 
approached.  Before  he  came  forward  to  meet 
her,  he  observed  the  Legate  walking  swiftly  after 
her,  so  he  remained  hidden.  When  Rose  saw 
that  she  was  being  followed,  she  gave  a  little  gasp 
of  surprise.  "  I  thought  you  had  gone  with  my 
Lord,"  she  said  to  the  Cardinal  Legate. 

His  eyes  gloated  over  her  beauty  as  he  replied. 
"  Thou  knowest,  little  one,  I  could  not  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  leave  thee." 


306  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

"  Oh,  can  you  never  let  me  be  ? "  she  moaned. 

"  So  ho,  my  fine  lady !  So  ho,  still  scornful  even 
after  thy  lover  has  tired  of  thee  and  left  his  beau 
tiful  Rose  with  her  petals  falling  about  her  on  the 
ground,  for  him  who  chooses  to  pick  them  up  and 
enjoy  their  fragrance  ?  "  He  folded  his  arms  and 
looked  down  upon  her,  smiling  maliciously. 

"  Then  not  for  you,  not  for  you,  Pierre  Barsini, 
shall  they  lie  there,"  she  answered  angrily,  stamp 
ing  her  foot ;  "  why  do  you  follow  me  about  and 
torture  me  so  ?  What  have  I  done  to  you  that 
you  should  so  gloat  over  my  misery?  Can  you 
not  let  me  be  since  I  am  unhappy  enough  to  suit 
even  you  ? " 

A  sardonic  smile  shot  across  the  Cardinal's  face. 
"  Done  to  me,"  he  repeated,  "  what  have  you  done 
to  me  ?  Oh,  nothing, — nothing, — only  awakened 
within  me  the  fires  of  Hell,  robbed  me  of  my  sleep 
and  all  desire  for  food,  made  my  waking  moments 
a  torture,  and  my  nights  a  tantalus  of  entrancing 
visions,  changed  me  one  instant  into  a  drivelling 
idiot,  —  and  the  next  into  a  cruel  demon  with  no 
mercy  whatever  in  my  heart.  Why  seek  to  make 
me  hate  thee?  Be  mine,  and  I  shall  provide 
for  thee  a  state  which  you,  in  England,  know 
naught  of.  In  Rome  you  will  be  a  very  prin 
cess.  Basta!  I  could  almost  laugh  to  think 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         307 

of  the  Cardinal  Barsini  begging  for  a  woman's 
favors." 

The  girl  smiled  to  think  that  there  was  a  time, 
not  so  very  long  ago,  when  such  talk  might  have 
had  weight  with  her. 

He  misinterpreted  the  smile.  "  Be  not  so  cruel," 
he  said,  reaching  forth  his  arms.  But  she  sprang 
back  with  horror  in  her  face. 

"  Sooner  than  give  myself  to  thee,"  she  cried 
vehemently,  "  I  would  cheerfully  seek  out  the 
lowliest  churl  who  slinks  on  his  foul  litter." 

The  haughty  Legate  paled  with  rage;  for  an 
instant  he  regarded  in  stony  silence  the  beautiful 
girl  who  dared  to  defy  him  so  insolently,  then, 
drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  with  one 
arm  raised  high  above  his  head,  as  a  last  resort  to 
compel  her  to  his  will,  he  launched  forth  the  awful 
words  of  excommunication  from  the  Church. 

But  now  Annys  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
Dashing  from  his  hiding-place,  and  facing  the 
Legate,  trembling  with  fierce  indignation,  he 
cried :  — 

"  *  Cast  out  from  the  body  of  the  Church, 
doomed  to  everlasting  hell-fire,  torture  without 
end.'  It  is  you,  you  foul  fiend  in  holy  garb,  and 
not  this  woman,  that  should  be  cast  out." 

The   Legate    smiled,  a  cold,  hard  smile,  fully 


3o8  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

master  of  himself  again.  "  Pardon  me,  Sir  Knight," 
he  remarked  with  studied  politeness,  "had  I  known 
that  the  lady  had  decided  already  to  comfort  her 
self  with  another  gallant,  I  should  not  have  pre 
sumed  to  press  my  suit." 

"  You  liar,  you  craven-hearted  liar,"  exclaimed 
Annys,  hotly. 

"  Well,  then,  if  I  mistake,  for  your  language 
is  not  of  the  choicest,  —  and  so  I  marvel  at  the 
lady's  favor  shown  you,  —  what  is  it  that  brings 
the  most  holy  monk  from  his  monastery  masquer 
ading  in  minstrel's  garb?" 

Then  Annys  became  aware  of  his  minstrel's 
badge  still  clinging  to  his  shoulder.  Hastily 
tearing  it  off,  he  retorted  scornfully :  — 

"  Masquerade  indeed  !  By  Mary  in  Heaven,  I 
know  not  why  the  words  do  not  choke  thee  in 
thy  throat,  /masquerade  forsooth!  And  does 
he  not  masquerade  rather  who  dares  to  wear  the 
holy  garb  of  a  priest  of  God  and  uses  the  most 
solemn  offices  of  Holy  Church  to  serve  his  own 
base  purposes  ?  It  is  thou  who  art  masquerading 
and  in  a  priest's  frock.  Go,  get  thee  a  suit  of 
flaming  scarlet,  and  let  thy  cloven  foot  and  thy 
long  tail  show  honestly,  and  then,  and  then  only, 
shall  I  not  accuse  thee  of  masquerading." 

The  Legate's  eyes  blazed  with  fury.     "  Think 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          309 

not  that  I  do  not  know  you,  Robert  Annys,  for 
well  do  I  now  remember  that  lying,  sedition-loving 
tongue.  I  shall  have  the  hue  and  cry  set  after 
you.  I  shall  accuse  you  of  coming  here  and 
seeking  to  set  the  insurgents  against  the  Baron. 
You  shall  yet  be  quartered  and  strung  *or  this 
day's  work."  And  he  swept  by. 

"  Quick,  quick,"  cried  Rose,  "  he  is  a  dangerous 
enemy.  Meet  me  down  by  the  river  and  tie  a  bit 
of  white  about  the  willow  bush  that  hides  thee. 
Await  me  there.  Lose  not  an  instant." 


310  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XXX 

SOME  hours  elapsed  before  Rose  Westel  could 
escape  unnoticed  to  the  hiding-place  by  the  river. 
As  Annys  stepped  forth,  Rose's  heart  sank  within 
her,  for  his  face  was  set  and  hard.  Could  she 
accomplish  her  purpose?  Was  this  unbending 
monk  the  passionate  lover  she  had  once  known  ? 

"  I  was  sent  for,"  he  began  coldly,  "  in  the  name 
of  my  people,  or  I  should  not  have  come.  Delay 
me  not,  there  is  much  work  to  be  done." 

"  I  will  be  brief,"  she  said  guardedly.  "  They 
are  about  to  attack  the  Manor  House  where  the 
Baron  has  gone.  I  tried  to  keep  him  here,  I  told 
him  his  life  was  in  danger,  but  he  only  laughed 
at  me  for  my  pains." 

A  swift  gleam  of  indignation  shot  over  his 
drawn  face. 

"  Hast  sent  then  for  me  to  save  thy  lover,  for 
me  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Nay,  I  have  sent  for  thee  to  save  my  soul,"  she 
said,  with  a  pitiful  ghost  of  her  old  smile,  her  old 
spirit. 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING         311 

"  It  is  not  given  a  priest  of  God  to  shrive  an 
unrepentant  harlot,"  was  his  impetuous  answer. 

"  You  are  even  as  other  priests,  who  speak  ever 
by  rote,"  flashed  from  her  angrily.  "  An  unrepentant 
harlot,  if  you  will,  but  a  better  woman  than  that 
haughty,  self-willed  girl  the  world  called  *  good.' 
I  fled  from  the  sight  of  suffering  in  others,  I 
cared  only  for  my  own  pleasures,  for  no  one  save 
myself.  Now  go  about  the  Castle  and  ask  of 
Rose  Westel,  discover  what  kind  of  name  she 
bears,  count  the  friends  who  love  her  and  whom 
she  serves,  fit  the  deeds  she  does  with  the  selfish 
aloofness  of  that  girl  I  was,  and  tell  me  which 
was  the  better  woman.  Ay,  look  at  me,  look  at 
me,"  she  ended  passionately,  "  is  it  not  written  on 
my  face  ? " 

He  looked  gravely  down  upon  her.  Ah,  not 
lightly  had  she  loved,  either!  Love  indeed  had 
given  her  a  soul. 

"Yes,  the  heart  is  a  great  teacher,"  he  said 
softly. 

"  It  is  not  possible  that  the  good  Father  can 
cast  one  to  hell  whose  sole  sin  was  in  overmuch 
loving,"  she  said. 

"  Whose  sole  sin  was  in  overmuch  loving." 
How  often  had  he  prayed  that  might  be  so. 

"  No,"  she   repeated,  with    a   certain  sad   dig- 


312  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

nity,  "  I  have  not  sent  for  you  because  I  sinned 
through  love,  but  because  I  sinned  through  hate." 

"Through  hate?     How?" 

She  pressed  two  trembling  fingers  on  her  burn 
ing  eyelids  for  an  instant,  and  then  kneeled  before 
him  and  looked  up  piteously  into  his  hardened 
face. 

"  I  never  knew  that  one  could  suffer  as  I  suf 
fered  when  that  woman  came  —  that  woman  to 
lie  where  I  have  lain,  to  kiss  where  I  have  kissed 
—  that  woman  —  ah  !  —  I  was  wild  —  out  of  my 
senses  when  I  sought  John  Kyrkeby  and  whis 
pered  to  him  that  I  was  forced  by  the  Baron." 

He  was  about  to  speak,  but  she  silenced  him 
with  a  gesture.  "  It  was  a  lie,  a  base  lie,"  she  said, 
reddening  with  shame  ;  "  but  heed  not  that.  John 
Kyrkeby  left  me  hot  with  anger  to  stir  up  his 
fellows  against  the  Baron." 

"  Ah,  girl,"  he  said  sadly,  "  think  not  your  words 
will  be  answerable  for  what  follows.  The  people 
have  more  —  far  more  against  the  Baron  de 
Leaufort  than  the  undoing  of  one  maid.  He 
has  been  a  hard  taskmaster,  and  has  ever  refused 
the  quit-rent." 

"The  very  words  John  Kyrkeby  spake  when 
I  went  again  to  him  wild  at  my  own  deed.  He 
said  to  me  then  that  no  one  could  prevent  the 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING         313 

men  from  marching  on  the  Manor  save  that 
Robert  Annys  would  come  before  them  again  as 
their  leader.  He  alone  could  keep  their  eyes 
fixed  on  Blackheath. 

"  I  was  mad,  mad,"  she  continued,  now  walking 
up  and  down  in  agony,  "  mad,  mad.  I  thought 
only  that  she  would  not  have  him.  I  forgot 
that  he — Edmond — must  suffer.  They  will  kill 
him,  they  will  burn  the  Manor  House  over  his 
head." 

"  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  blame  thee  for 
bringing  me  in  hopes  to  save  thy  lover,"  he  said 
gently,  "  yet  I  should  not  have  come  had  the  mes 
sage  read,  '  My  lover  needs  thee,'  —  remember  it 
was,  '  Thy  people  need  thee!  ' 

She  clung  to  his  gown. 

"  Nay,  then,  thy  people  do  need  thee.  Think, 
will  it  help  the  people's  Cause  that  they  come  to 
the  King  with  hands  reddened  in  the  blood  of  his 
nobles  ?  Remember,  de  Leaufort  is  a  kinsman  of 
the  King." 

"  True,  true,"  he  said,  "  I  will  go,  not  to  save  thy 
lover.  I  go,  but  to  save  the  people  —  if  I  can  — 
from  themselves.  I  cannot  promise  thee  I  shall 
be  in  time,  but  if  word  of  mine  can  serve,  there 
shall  be  no  further  violence." 

Holding  his  cross  high  up  over  his  head,  he 


3H  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

gazed  at  it  an  instant  outlined  against  the  flam 
ing  sun,  and  took  a  quick  step  forward. 

"  In  Thy  name!     In  Thy  name!     I  go!  I  go!  " 

But  she  detained  him  yet  an  instant.  Throw 
ing  herself  once  more  before  him,  she  bent  her 
head  low  to  his  sandals. 

"  Pray  for  me,  pray  for  me.  To-morrow  my 
mother's  death-bed  shall  be  mine.  Remember  in 
thy  prayers  poor  Rose  Westel." 

At  first  he  looked  down  upon  her  wildly,  as  if 
in  his  eagerness  to  go  he  had  forgot  her  very 
existence.  He  heard  only  her  prayer  for  remem 
brance.  A  fierce  reproach  swept  into  his  eyes. 

"  Remember  thee  in  my  prayers  ?  Woman,  the 
one  prayer  I  have  known  since  first  I  set  eyes 
on  thee  has  been  that  I  might  forget  thee ! " 

And  with  his  face  into  the  sunset  he  was  gone. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         315 


XXXI 

FOR  a  while  he  swept  on  oblivious  of  fatigue 
and  faintness  from  lack  of  food.  The  one  defi 
nite  thought  in  his  mind  was  that  he  was  needed, 
there  was  work  for  him  to  do.  The  success  of 
the  great  Uprising  was  endangered,  and  he  was 
on  his  way  to  turn  failure  into  victory.  He  would 
bring  the  men  back  to  reason,  he  would  show 
them  how  much  depended  upon  it  that  they  come 
before  the  King  with  clean  hands. 

For  the  first  time  in  many  months  the  old  elixir 
of  leadership  ran  through  his  veins.  He  was  a 
man,  a  worker,  once  more.  The  dreamer,  the 
monk,  the  scholar  were  gone  —  swallowed  up  in 
a  wave  of  disgust  for  the  life  of  the  past  few 
months.  Of  what  use  had  he  been  to  the  world  ? 
With  infinite  toil  he  had  copied  a  few  words  from 
the  Past.  What  had  he  done  for  the  unborn 
Future  ?  Always  with  eyes  and  ears  turned 
backward,  he  had  been  like  those  unfortunates 
on  whom  Dante  had  looked  with  such  horror, 
who  had  their  faces  turned  toward  their  reins.  It 


316  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

seemed  a  strange  whim  that  he  could  have  de 
lighted  in  the  calm  shelter  of  the  Abbey ;  he  now 
regarded  it  with  detestation  —  it  was  the  false 
peace  against  which  his  master,  John  Wyclif,  had 
warned  him.  He  was  again  breasting  the  stormy 
currents  of  life.  The  call  of  his  people  had  come 
to  him,  and  he  was  on  his  way  to  them.  His 
long  sleep  was  over.  He  was  awake  now.  They 
needed  him.  He  would  save  them. 

"  I  am  coming,"  he  tried  to  shout,  but  he  was 
voiceless,  and  suddenly  his  knees  sank  under  him 
and  he  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 

For  a  long  time  he  lay  on  the  ground  uncon 
scious.  As  consciousness  slowly  and  painfully 
came  back  to  him,  he  looked  about  him  wildly, 
and  tried  to  recall  what  had  happened.  He  was 
lying  among  the  fens  before  the  Cathedral.  He 
was  chilled  through  with  the  ooze  of  the  swamp 
soaking  up  through  the  long  grasses  which  were 
crushed  beneath  him  where  he  had  fallen.  He 
found  it  impossible  to  rise.  The  land  lay 
wrapped  in  the  silence  of  evening.  He  could 
hear  only  the  voices  of  frogs  unceasingly  ringing 
like  sleigh  bells,  an  occasional  sobbing  sigh  of  the 
wind  as  it  touched  the  line  of  rushes,  and  the 
sucking  of  the  water  into  the  grasses  as  he 
stirred. 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING         317 

A  terrible  sense  of  some  task  to  be  done  op 
pressed  him.  What  was  it  ?  For  a  long  time  he 
gazed  dumbly  up  at  the  sullen  steely  clouds  that 
were  driving  across  the  heavens  with  a  powerful 
rush  and  swirl.  A  damp  sea  fog  was  coming  in 
from  the  ocean,  and  only  now  and  then  could  he' 
see  the  outlines  of  the  Cathedral,  looming  up 
grimly  against  the  horizon,  cold  and  dark  and 
forbidding,  as  some  great  monster  looking  down 
in  triumph  on  his  helplessness. 

Of  a  sudden  there  were  lights  moving  in  the 
distance  where  lay  the  highroad  to  Sudbury. 
They  moved  about  restlessly  as  if  borne  on  the 
shoulders  of  moving  men.  Sometimes  they 
halted,  and  sometimes  they  grouped  themselves 
in  twos  and  threes,  and  again  they  moved  on 
rhythmically  in  regular  unison.  Hoarse  cries  and 
orders  came  to  him  in  muffled  tones,  and  at  last 
he  could  make  out  that  some  people  were  singing, 
and  by  listening  intently,  he  could  just  make  out 
the  words :  — 

"  With  right  and  with  might 
With  skill  and  with  will  ; 
Let  might  help  right, 
And  skill  go  before  will 
And  right  before  might 
So  goeth  our  mill  aright." 

God !  he  understood. 


3i8  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

The  refrain  carried  him  back,  oh,  so  long  ago, 
when  he  had  kneeled  before  the  altar  of  yonder 
Minster,  and  the  stirring  words  had  come  to  him 
as  a  message  from  God.  How  full  of  strength 
and  vigor  was  he  then  ! 

Those  flashing  lights  in  the  distance  meant  that 
the  men  were  already  forming,  and  on  their  way 
to  the  Manor.  They  would  set  fire  to  it,  doubt 
less,  and  they  would  deal  roughly  with  the  Baron  ; 
it  was  all  too  likely  that  they  would  kill  him. 
And  what  would  the  King  have  to  say  to  the  mur 
derers  of  the  great  Baron  de  Leaufort  ?  Oh,  they 
must  be  saved  from  committing  this  terrible  folly. 
Of  course  they  would  be  saved.  Was  he  not 
on  his  way  now  to  save  them  ?  He  would 
hold  them  in  control ;  he  would  make  them 
con  well  their  own  song,  that  right  must  go 
before  might.  He  would  march  with  them  and 
not  leave  them  again  until  they  stood  before  the 
King,  and  he  as  spokesman  would  approach  and 
say:  — 

"  O  King  Richard,  we  are  leal  men  and  not 
traitors,  as  we  have  been  falsely  called.  These 
men  but  seek  to  be  free  men,  and  to  have  the  love 
of  life  and  the  life  of  love  which  should  be  all 
men's,  be  he  king  or  caitiff." 

He  would  do  this. 


A   TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          319 

He  made  another  attempt  to  rise,  but  sank 
back  again  among  the  grasses. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  wherefore  hast  Thou 
forsaken  me  ? " 

The  full  bitterness  of  his  helplessness  rushed 
over  him.  A  clod  of  clay !  —  forsooth,  he  was  less 
than  a  clod  of  clay.  He  was  of  less  use  to  the  world 
than  the  smallest  blade  of  grass,  or  the  tiniest  drop 
of  dew.  He  could  do  nothing.  He  had  to  lie  there 
and  watch  those  lights  disappear,  and  though  his 
heart  and  his  mind  and  his  soul  went  with 
them,  his  body  must  remain  there,  prone  among 
the  bogs.  What  a  failure  he  had  made  of  his 
life.  The  one  crucial  call  had  come  for  him,  and 
he  could  not  answer  "  Adsum." 

"  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them." 

What  fruit  had  he  to  show  ?  He  was  as  a  tree 
that  had  fallen  by  the  wayside,  uprooted,  worth 
less.  It  was  because  of  late  he  had  been  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  thought  of  personal  salvation  — 
the  monastic  idea,  which,  after  all,  was  but  a  sub 
limated  selfishness.  And  how  came  it  that  he, 
of  all  others,  should  have  fallen  into  the  fatal 
error  of  killing  his  body  instead  of  preserving  it 
for  noble  ends  ?  His  life  at  the  Abbey  had  not 
conquered  his  body,  it  had  permitted  his  body  to 


320  ROBERT  ANNYS :   POOR   PRIEST 

conquer  him.  The  weaker  the  body,  the  stronger 
its  sway.  He  looked  back  on  his  days  of  youth 
ful  strength,  when  he  had  contemplated  with  dis 
gust  the  unkempt,  wild-eyed  hermits  with  their 
locks  matted  thick  about  their  temples,  when  they 
appeared  in  their  dirty  rags  along  the  highway, 
begging  alms  to  keep  body  and  soul  together. 
How  he  had  scorned  the  false  ideals  of  those 
hermits  who  dared  to  call  themselves  the  truest 
Christians.  And  how  much  better  had  he  done 
with  his  own  life  ?  Wrecked  it,  wrecked  it  high 
and  dry  on  the  barren  rocks  of  monasticism. 

"  My  beloved  Master  hath  called,  and  I  have 
failed  Him,"  he  cried  out  again  and  again  in  his 
despair. 

Ely  Minster  had  withdrawn  itself  entirely  into 
the  night,  but  to  one  so  familiar  with  its  contour 
as  Annys,  it  was  easy  to  carve  it  out  from  the 
surrounding  darkness ;  to  him  it  still  dominated 
the  landscape  as  at  high  noon.  He  recalled  the 
defiance  which  he  had  launched  at  it  as  he  had 
stood  before  it  in  the  November  gloaming. 

"  Be  not  over  triumphant,  even  now,"  he  mur 
mured  ;  "  thou  art  doomed  to  bow  thy  haughty 
head  in  this  land  of  stalwart  men." 

Perhaps  it  was  not  yet  too  late  to  redeem  him 
self.  Surely  that  great  God  who  had  put  the 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          321 

breath  of  life  into  his  nostrils  could  at  will  fill  his 
loins  with  strength.  Perhaps  he  had  succumbed 
too  readily.  He  would  have  faith. 

"  I  would  seek  unto  God,"  Job's  prayer  rose  to 
his  lips,  "  and  unto  God  would  I  commit  my  cause, 
which  doeth  great  things  and  unsearchable ;  mar 
vellous  things  without  number." 

The  wind  that  had  stirred  lazily  through  the 
reeds  now  suddenly  freshened.  Gathering 
strength,  at  last  it  whipped  the  fog  before  it, 
scurrying  across  the  land.  As  it  parted  the  white 
veil  before  the  cathedral,  the  moon  was  just  peep 
ing  above  the  roof.  As  it  sailed  over  the  octagon 
it  left  Ely  Minster  below,  carven  out  of  the  im 
penetrable  night  —  etched  against  the  brightening 
sky,  it  stood  out  grimmer,  gloomier,  than  ever. 

As  the  moon  climbed  the  heavens,  the  beams 
rested  on  the  rugged  pile.  Little  by  little  its 
frown  was  smoothed  out,  a  tremor  swept  over  it, 
and  it  smiled.  No  longer  fearsome,  no  longer 
wrapped  in  gloom,  it  appeared  in  the  soft  radi 
ance,  a  celestial  vision.  The  arcades  of  pointed 
arches,  the  exquisite  stone  parapet,  the  pinnacled 
turrets  of  the  divine  octagon,  the  noble  towers, 
all  stood  forth  in  their  fairylike  delicacy  of  detail, 
and  yet  in  all  the  simple  majesty  of  the  complete 
creation. 

Y 


322  ROBERT  ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

His  heart  beat  tumultuously.  The  spectacle 
seemed  to  him  too  beautiful  for  the  eyes  of  man  to 
behold.  To  him  there  was  a  desecration  —  a  sacri- 
legiousness  —  in  his  presence  there  as  this  glorious 
being  bared  her  full  loveliness  to  her  lover  night. 

Then  there  came  a  voice  into  the  wind  —  the 
voice  that  had  appeared  unto  Isaiah  of  old : 

"Thou  art  my  servant,  I  have  chosen  thee  and  not  cast 
thee  away;  fear  not,  for  I  am  with  thee ;  be  not  dismayed, 
for  I  am  thy  God ;  I  will  strengthen  thee ;  yea,  I  will  help 
thee ;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my  right- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         323 


XXXII 

THE  men  pressed  on  through  the  night  weari- 
lessly.  In  the  hearts  of  all  was  the  joy  of  living 
a  moment  which  had  lit  up  the  horizon  for  two- 
score  years  and  more.  Of  a  large  body  of  men 
some  there  were  whose  throats  craved  the  rare 
wines  that  were  stored  in  my  lord's  cellars,  whose 
stomachs  hungered  for  the  grain  of  the  well-filled 
garner-houses,  whose  fingers  longed  for  the  con 
tents  of  the  great  oaken  chests,  bursting  with  pre 
cious  stuffs.  Yet  the  large  majority  of  them 
scorned  such  base  motives.  These  were  ideal 
ists,  throwing  away  the  small  advantage  of  the 
moment  for  the  greater  advantage  of  the  morrow. 
Many,  strong  in  the  faith  of  their  leaders,  had 
flung  hand  from  the  plough  which  at  least  had 
kept  starvation  from  their  bodies.  Surely  the 
moon  looking  down  that  night  witnessed  a  strange 
sight — a  deeply  significant,  portentous  sight — the 
laborers,  ill  clad,  with  the  marks  of  their  toil  yet 
upon  them,  armed  only  with  cracked  bows,  broken 
swords,  rusty  staves,  axes,  scythes,  whips,  and  even 


324  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

stout  sticks,  going  forth  fearlessly  to  meet  trained 
armies.  And  the  moon,  looking  down  that  night, 
found  not  only  the  highroad  between  Ely  and 
Sudbury  alive  with  marching  men,  but  also  the 
highroad  that  lay  between  Canterbury  and  Mile 
End,  and  that  between  Peterborough  and  St. 
Alban's,  and  that  which  led  from  Lincoln  to 
Huntington,  and  the  one  from  Southampton  to 
Maidstone.  From  the  north,  from  the  east,  and 
from  the  south,  wherever  the  moon  turned  its 
face,  the  roads  were  black  with  the  men,  for  the 
signal  had  been  given,  and  the  great  Uprising 
had  begun. 

On  the  way,  small  wonder  that  some  bodies  of 
men,  grown  sullen  by  the  long  wait,  broke  the 
bounds  their  leaders  would  have  put  upon  them, 
and  satisfied  their  private  enmities.  Some  set 
fire  to  all  the  homes  of  lawyers  that  they  came 
upon,  for  too  long  had  the  lawyers  lived  off  the 
slavery  of  the  people;  others  cut  off  the  heads 
of  all  the  clerks  they  encountered,  because  the 
land  was  lumbered  with  them ;  others  attacked 
monasteries  and  burned  the  records,  that  their 
bondage  could  not  be  proven  to  the  future,  doing 
their  work  so  thoroughly  as  to  toss  on  the  flam 
ing  pile  every  book  and  bit  of  writing  they  could 
lay  their  hands  on ;  still  more  waylaid  teachers  of 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT  UPRISING          325 

grammar,  and  made  them  take  great  oaths  that 
they  would  henceforth  cease  teaching  youngsters 
to  read  and  write,  —  for  what  was  the  good  of 
clerkliness  save  to  gain  a  mysterious  and  unjust 
power  over  the  workers  of  the  fields  ? 

The  great  god  Demos,  after  centuries  of  dream 
less  sleep,  throwing  off  his  sluggishness  with 
effort,  only  partially  articulate  as  yet,  staggering 
on  awkwardly,  aimlessly,  blindly,  —  drunk  with 
the  sudden  revelation  of  his  own  huge  strength, 
a  tragic  picture  enough  with  his  great  heart  reach 
ing  out  toward  some  Ideal,  but  not  quite  know 
ing  what  it  was,  nor  how  to  get  it.  When  at  last 
this  great  monster,  in  the  shape  of  ten  thousand 
laborers  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  was  to 
appear  before  the  King  —  what  was  the  welcome 
that  would  be  tendered  ?  Demos  was  politely 
informed  by  a  noble  earl  that  he  was  not  costumed 
fitly  to  meet  the  King.  The  giant,  tamed  by  the 
very  insolence  and  unexpectedness  of  the  weapon 
used,  the  one  weapon  perchance  before  which  he 
would  have  quailed  —  acknowledged  a  temporary 
defeat.  Not  dressed  to  appear  before  the  King ! 
And  who,  forsooth,  had  made  the  laws  that  poor 
men  may  not  go  abroad  save  in  russet  cloth  ? 
Why  had  they  not  made  that  answer? 

When  the  men  of  Cambridgeshire  reached  the 


326  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

Manor  of  the  Baron  de  Leaufort,  he  awoke  and 
sent  his  bailiff  down  to  them.  The  bailiff  was 
a  man  who  trusted  in  the  stability  of  the  feudal 
structure  of  society  as  few  trust  in  the  permanence 
of  heaven. 

"  What  would  ye,"  he  cried  ;  "  wot  ye  no  better 
than  to  disturb  his  Lordship  at  this  time  o'  night  ? 
Disperse  instanter,  and  if  it  be  that  ye  have  aught 
to  say  on  the  morrow  when  ye  are  sober,  my  Lord 
bids  me  say  he  will  hold  a  love-day,  and  listen  to 
your  complaints." 

"  We  want  no  love-day,"  sang  out  one,  surlily. 
"  Who  are  we  ?  "  cried  another,  "  we  are  those 
who  want  no  bailiff  to  tell  us  what  to  do.     We 
want  to  see  the    Baron.      Order   him    to  come 
straightway." 

The  bailiff  gasped.  "  Order  the  Baron ! "  The 
heavens  could  tremble,  after  all !  "  Varlets  !  Idle 
churls  !  How  dare  ye  talk  so  insolently  ?  By  my 
two  ears  some  of  ye  will  hang  for  this  night's  work." 
"  Now  thou  hast  but  one  ear  to  swear  by,"  cried 
a  great  fellow,  approaching  the  bailiff  and  slicing 
off  one  ear  with  a  stroke  of  his  knife. 

The  bailiff  screamed  and  clapped  his  hand  to 
his  bleeding  head.  "  The  land  is  full  enough  of 
bailiffs,"  shouted  some. 

"  Seize  him,  seize  him,"  cried  others. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         327 

The  heavens  had  fallen.  His  fat  cheeks  were 
chalky  and  hung  flabbily  under  his  eyes.  He  saw 
his  mistake.  He  should  have  been  more  concilia 
tory.  "  Hold,  fellows,  what  would  ye,  drink?  " 

But  his  trembling  voice  was  lost  in  the  babble 
that  arose  as  two  or  three  took  hold  of  him  and 
bore  him  along,  shrieking  pitifully.  As  those  that 
carried  him  seemed  not  to  know  what  to  do  with 
their  burden,  a  man  solved  the  problem  by  reach 
ing  forth  a  rusty  sword  and  severing  the  head 
from  the  body.  In  a  trice  half  a  dozen  fellows 
were  after  the  rolling  head,  and  had  raised  it, 
dripping,  upon  a  lance.  The  lance  they  stuck 
into  the  ground  with  the  head  lifted  on  high,  that 
all  might  see.  Several  others  busied  themselves 
with  picking  up  twigs  and  branches,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  had  a  roaring  bonfire  in  a  wide  cir 
cle  about  the  lance,  so  that  the  curling  flames  lit 
up  its  hideous,  ghastly  burden. 

The  men  danced  about  the  fire  in  glee. 

"  Ha,  ha,  Sir  Bailiff,"  they  mocked,  "  who  are 
we,  indeed  ?  Do  you  know  us  now,  Master 
Bailiff  ? " 

While  others  said  :  — 

"  We  are  thy  master,  now,  Sir  Bailiff,  and  the 
masters  of  all  England  from  this  night  on." 

"  Serfs  and  villeins  ye  be,  and  serfs  and  villeins 


328  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

ye  remain,"  called  a  strong,  contemptuous  voice 
from  the  doorway. 

They  paused,  and  saw  de  Leaufort  standing 
coolly  before  them.  His  arms  were  folded  on  his 
breast.  He  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  arm 
himself.  Surely  a  noble  of  the  realm  need  not 
quail  before  his  own  villeins.  He  also  held  feu 
dalism  a  law  of  the  universe. 

"  Begone,  madmen,"  he  commanded.  "Disperse 
to  your  homes!  Ye  must  be  all  out  of  your  senses; 
the  scourge  and  the  whip  shall  bring  them  back 
to  you,  I  promise  you.  Not  many  shall  see  his 
feet  for  many  days  to  come." 

Then,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  bailiff's  head 
stuck  on  the  lance,  he  started  back  in  amazement 
at  their  daring.  Before  he  could  speak  again,  a 
dozen  fellows  pushed  him  roughly  from  the  door 
and  made  their  way  into  the  house.  "  Stay,"  he 
cried  hoarsely ;  but  no  one  paid  the  slightest 
attention  to  him,  save  that  one  or  two,  in  passing, 
plucked  at  his  beard,  and  one  clapped  his  hand 
familiarly  on  his  shoulders,  and  called  him 
"  Brother."  "  For,"  he  said,  "  from  to-night  we 
all  shall  be  brothers  throughout  the  land,  and  not 
masters  and  slaves." 

The  Baron  passed  one  hand  across  his  brow  as 
if  he,  too,  were  taking  leave  of  his  senses.  Was 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING          329 

it  some  terrible  nightmare  ?  He  had  been  warned 
that  the  people  were  rising,  he  had  expected  some 
setting  forth  of  grievances,  and  perhaps  some  slight 
show  of  force ;  but  insolence  like  this  was  past  all 
belief. 

As  he  stood  hesitating,  there  approached  John 
Kyrkeby  to  him,  who  stuck  a  huge  clenched  fist 
into  his  face  and  said  surlily :  "  Look  you,  Baron 
de  Leaufort,  the  time  for  such  as  you  has  come. 
The  land  has  groaned  long  enough  under  the 
sway  of  barons  and  earls.  Mark  me,  there  are 
some  here  who  will  not  rest  till  your  blood  soak 
this  ground.  I  think  myself  they  have  gone  far 
enough,  yet  keep  a  civil  tongue  within  your  head, 
or  it  will  roll  on  the  earth  as  that  other  did. 
Have  a  care,  or  I  cannot  protect  you." 

"  Thou  protect  me,  indeed  !  "  cried  de  Leaufort, 
drawing  himself  up  proudly.  "  I  am  well  used  to 
hold  my  back  up  to  thee  to  be  measured  for  the 
cloth,  but  I  shall  never  demean  myself  by  holding 
it  to  thee  for  protection.  Indeed !  wilt  protect 
me  with  thy  shears  ? " 

The  man  gave  a  hoarse  laugh.  "  Ay !  it  tastes 
strangely  on  the  tongue,  does  it  not  ?  Yet,  mark 
me,  the  signs  of  my  trade  will  be  remembered 
and  thought  somewhat  of  long  after  yours  will 
be  forgotten ;  for,  of  a  truth,  the  time  is  come 


330  ROBERT   ANNYS:  POOR   PRIEST 

when  men  must  earn  their  bread,  as  Holy  Writ 
saith,  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow,  or  go  bread- 
less." 

The  Baron  made  an  impatient  gesture  and 
turned  to  enter  the  house. 

"  Here,"  cried  the  tailor,  "  bind  him !  it  will  do 
no  harm  to  keep  him  from  mischief." 

Twenty  men  rushed  upon  de  Leaufort  to  do 
their  leader's  bidding.  His  eyes  darted  fire. 
"  Touch  me  not,"  he  cried,  "  caitiffs !  I  suffer 
no  such  indignity  at  your  hands.  Kill  me,  and 
ye  will  find  that  I  can  die  as  a  brave  soldier,  but 
I  cannot  owe  my  life  to  dogs." 

An  arrow  let  fly  grazed  his  cheek  and  drew 
blood. 

"  Bring  me  the  man  that  shot  that,"  shouted 
Kyrkeby ;  "  another  arrow,  and  it  will  stick  from 
his  own  hulk." 

While  they  were  securing  the  Baron,  who  was 
obliged  to  submit,  dozens  of  fellows  came  rushing 
from  the  house  as  if  shot  out  of  a  catapult,  tum 
bling  over  one  another,  carrying  jewelled  goblets 
and  precious  vases,  casks  of  wine,  suits  of  mail, 
and  oaken  chests. 

Some  set  upon  the  chests  and  ripped  them 
open  with  axes,  and  allowed  the  contents  to  scat 
ter  on  the  ground ;  others  burst  open  casks  of 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         331 

wine,  and  what  was  not  soaked  into  the  earth 
speedily  went  to  make  the  mob  the  wilder. 

"  To  the  fire,  to  the  fire,  in  with  them,"  they 
shouted. 

Some  obeyed.  Others  first  decked  themselves 
out  in  the  fineries  and  strutted  up  and  down  and 
cut  queer  capers,  curious  as  children  to  know  how 
it  would  feel  to  have  a  long  tail  dragging  behind 
them  as  they  walked.  One  fellow  was  seen  to 
slip  a  jewelled  goblet  into  his  tunic.  He  was 
instantly  jerked  from  his  feet,  and  at  a  nod  from 
their  leader  was  thrown  bodily  on  to  the  flames, 
the  jewelled  goblet  aimed  after  him.  The  fellow 
screamed  in  agony,  and  some  seemed  taken  aback, 
but  the  multitude  approved,  and  cried  out :  — 

"  Thus  do  we  serve  all  thieves." 

"  We  are  honest  men,  not  thieves ;  we  shall 
cast  the  jewels  and  the  gewgaws  on  the  flames, 
but  it  must  not  be  said  that  we  burn  down  manors 
only  to  rob  their  contents,"  cried  Simon  the  smith. 

The  Baron  stood  on  one  side,  his  arms  bound 
to  his  side,  one  moment  cursing  under  his  breath, 
and  the  next  assuming  a  stolid  indifference  as 
he  watched  one  after  another  of  his  possessions 
thrown  on  the  bonfire,  and  disappear  in  a  pillar 
of  flame.  Suddenly  some  fellows  created  a  new 
diversion  by  making  a  cross-piece  of  two  lances, 


33*  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

and  rigging  it  up  with  a  huge  pile  of  fineries 
which  had  been  dragged  from  one  of  the  chests. 
This  they  dressed  in  a  surcoat  of  tyretain  furred 
with  the  skins  of  many  martens,  throwing  over  it 
a  long  mantle  of  velvet,  lined  with  ermine,  and 
surmounting  the  whole  with  a  magnificent  scarlet 
hat  with  a  large  white  plume  nodding  from  it, 
and  a  great  clasp  of  gold  in  the  very  front. 
Then,  standing  at  a  distance  from  this  effigy, 
the  men  gleefully  riddled  it  with  arrows.  Tiring 
of  this  sport,  some  one  snatched  a  burning 
brand  from  the  fire  and  flung  it,  showering 
sparks  in  every  direction,  upon  the  roof  of  the 
Manor  House.  Instantly  more  brands  were 
thrown  on  by  other  willing  hands,  and  the  house 
was  soon  roaring  so  fiercely  that  the  men  had  to 
give  way  before  it. 

"Fellows,  this  is  the  man  who  has  undone  by 
force  our  lovely  Rose  Westel,  the  handsomest 
maid  in  Cambridgeshire." 

A  strange  light  came  into  de  Leaufort's  eyes. 
Could  this  be,  after  all,  but  a  woman's  revenge? 

A  hoarse  shout  arose  from  a  hundred  throats. 

"  Throw  him  back  into  his  own  house." 

"It  will  give  him  a  warm  enough  welcome." 

"  Off  with  his  head." 

"  We  will  bear  it  with  us  to  Blackheath  and 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         333 

set  it  up  there  that  all  may  know  who  are  the 
masters  of  England." 

The  Baron  closed  his  eyes  and  calmly  awaited 
the  fatal  stroke  which  he  knew  could  not  be  long 
delayed. 

It  came ;  but  notwithstanding  its  perfect  aim,  it 
did  not  strike  de  Leaufort,  but  sent  a  jet  of  hot 
blood  from  the  white  kerchief  of  a  woman  who  had 
rushed  from  the  darkness  to  fling  her  arms  about 
him. 

He  bent  over  her  with  a  hoarse  cry,  tugging  at 
his  bonds  until  one  from  pity  severed  them  with 
a  stroke  of  his  knife. 

"  Rose,  Rose,  you  here  ?  " 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled.  Death  bore 
a  radiant  visage,  seeing  that  her  lover's  arms 
were  about  her,  his  breath  was  on  her  cheeks, 
her  life  was  for  his.  A  tall,  slender  figure  sprang 
to  her  side,  pressed  a  crucifix  against  her  stiffen 
ing  lips,  and  all  was  over. 

Murmuring  the  prayer  for  the  dead,  the  figure 
kneeled  in  solemn  contemplation  of  the  lovely 
face,  and  then  suddenly  drew  itself  up  and  turned 
its  burning  eyes  upon  the  throng.  A  shiver  ran 
through  them  all.  It  was  their  old  leader,  Robert 
Annys. 

For  an  instant  he  looked  on  them  in  silence. 


334  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

In  his  face,  grief  and  pity,  and  anger  and  indig 
nation,  all  struggled  for  mastery.  As  his  gaze 
wandered  to  the  rich  stuffs,  trampled  and  soiled 
on  the  ground,  the  shattered,  gaping  chests, 
the  twisted  pieces  of  silver  and  gilt,  and  finally  the 
lance  with  the  grewsome  head  surveying  the 
smoking  and  blackened  ruins  of  the  Manor  House, 
at  last  the  indignation  —  passionate,  intense  — 
conquered. 

"  How  came  ye  so  to  shame  our  Cause  ?  "  The 
words  burst  from  him  at  white  heat. 

"  What  is  this  before  me  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  a  gather 
ing  of  thieves  and  robbers  and  murderers,  or  of 
true  men  —  workers  who  are  throwing  down  their 
tools  that  their  brethren  may  also  have  bread 
between  their  teeth  ?  Are  we  men  in  whose 
bosoms  burns  the  desire  to  sweep  off  the  face  of 
the  earth  all  unruth  and  injustice  and  wrong  ?  or 
are  we,  as  some  men  say  of  us,  but  varlets  whose 
envy  and  greed  make  us  lust  for  the  ease  of  the 
gentles  ?  Are  we  seeking  to  build  up  or  to  de 
stroy  ?  Answer  me  that !  I  tell  you,  fellow-men, 
we  dare  not  come  before  the  King  with  our  hands 
dripping  with  blood  and  the  land  laid  waste  by 
our  torches.  And  how  dare  we  come  before  God 
with  a  prayer  for  justice  on  our  lips,  but  only  envy 
and  murder  in  our  hearts  ? " 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         335 

The  men  stood  in  awed  silence,  looking  up  at 
Annys,  who  seemed  to  tower  above  them  in  his 
righteous  indignation —  Robert  Annys,  beloved  of 
all,  who  had  put  himself  again  at  their  head  as  by 
a  miracle. 

The  beautifully  modulated  voice  swept  on,  the 
voice  with  the  old  familiar  ring  in  it,  the  voice 
that  once  had  wielded  such  power  over  them. 
Impassioned  it  continued,  and  yet  with  the  over 
tone  of  a  great  pity  and  tenderness  now  vibrating 
through  it. 

"  O  my  fellows,  I  would  have  died  to  spare  you 
this.  Right  gladly  would  I  now  lay  down  this 
poor  life  if  thereby  I  could  know  that  ye  shall 
live  henceforth  as  free  men.  But  to  be  free  men, 
we  must  first  deserve  to  be  free.  Is  this  the  kind 
of  men  we  seek  to  prove  ourselves  ?  Is  this  the 
best  we  wish  the  others  to  think  of  us  ?  O  my 
brothers,  no  enemy  could  have  so  completely 
undone  you,  as  ye  yourselves  have  done.  Know 
you  not  that  men  may  call  you  the  scum  of  the 
earth  and  all  vile  names,  but  there  is  no  power 
on  earth  that  can  make  you  so,  save  just  your 
selves?  O  my  brothers,  remember  this.  Cease, 
cease  trailing  our  sacred  Cause  in  the  dust. 
Arise  and  follow  me  to  the  King,  and  come  before 
him  with  head  erect  and  look  him  in  the  eyes  as 


336  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

man  to  man.  Let  him  see  that  we  be  no  hang 
dog  murderers,  but  that  the  Great  Uprising  had 
its  birth  in  Truth  and  Righteousness.  It  lies  in 
our  hands  whether  it  go  down  to  unborn  genera 
tions  as  a  God-given  Uprising  of  the  people 
against  unjust  tyrants,  or  a  hellish  insurrection  of 
rapine  and  incendiarism  and  bloodshed.  If  this 
is  true, — and  who  can  gainsay  it?  —  who  are  your 
worst  enemies,  unless  it  be  yourselves  ?  See  to 
it,  lest,  in  thinking  to  conquer  others,  ye  but  fall 
before  your  baser  selves." 

Not  one  spoke.  Had  one  so  much  as  shrugged 
a  shoulder,  it  must  have  been  heard. 

The  speaker  watched  the  upturned  faces,  and 
slowly  it  came  over  him  that  no  longer  did  he 
look  upon  the  faces  of  murderers.  As  he  had 
spoken,  the  hot  passions  of  greed  and  envy  and 
hatred  and  revenge  passed  from  out  their  hearts, 
and  now  he  knew  that  in  their  place  he  had 
planted  faith  and  hope  and  patience. 

If  he  could  have  but  faced  all  those  souls  who 
were  marching  on  to  Blackheath  that  night ! 
Surely,  some  pages  of  English  history  had  read 
differently ! 

But  his  strength,  miraculously  kept  up  to  this 
point,  now  failed  him.  As  he  sank  back  into  the 
arms  of  a  sturdy  fellow  who  had  waited  by  his 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT   UPRISING         337 

side,  seeing  that  he  swayed  from  weakness,  he 
closed  his  eyes  wearily  and  sighed  gently  as  if  at 
peace.  For  he  was  supremely  happy,  since  in  the 
end  he  had  come  back  to  those  that  loved  him, 
and  had  been  suffered  to  do  them  service. 


338  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 


XXXIII 

ONE  year  later,  the  sun  that  flashed  from  Ely's 
towers  flashed  from    the   points    of   a    thousand 
spears,  from  as  many  burnished  helmets  and  glit 
tering  coats  of  mail,  from  the  polished  wood  of 
hundreds  of  crossbows,  from  the  resplendent  sur 
faces  of  emblazoned    shields,    and  from  shining 
battle-axes,  swinging  against  the  glossy  haunches 
of  war-horses.       It  lit  up  splendid  sword  belts  of 
rose,  azure,  and    vermilion,   tabards  superb  with 
armorial  bearings,  tunics  and  surcoats  gamboised 
and  interlaced  with  silks  of  yellow,  blue,  and  flame 
color  ;   it  illumined  waving  pennons  and  guidons, 
and   the  more   stately   banners    with    their   oft- 
repeated  device  of  St.  George  and  the  dragon,  or 
the  golden  keys  of  St.  Peter. 

There  at  the  head  of  his  troops  rode  the  proud 
figure  of  the  fighting  Bishop,  Spencer  of  Nor 
wich,  his  closely  wrought  suit  of  mail  and  helmet 
of  finest  blue  steel  rings,  his  surcoat  of  blue  velvet, 
his  gorget  of  the  same,  draped  from  the  helmet. 
Blue  flashed  against  blue,  the  clever  handiwork 
of  man  and  the  illimitable  cerulean  of  the  sky. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         339 

Every  reason  had  Spencer  of  Norwich  to  be 
proud,  for  the  Pope  had  appointed  him  special 
commissioner  to  raise  and  conduct  a  crusade 
in  succor  of  brave  Ghent  against  the  minions  of 
Antichrist  at  Avignon.  Even  now  he  was  on 
his  way  to  join  the  rest  of  his  army  to  set  sail  later 
from  Dover.  For  once  the  Pope's  war  was  the 
people's  war.  For  once  the  interests  of  the  nation 
and  the  Papacy  were  one,  and  the  wealth  of  Eng 
land  need  not  be  squandered  in  the  support  of  two 
opposing  armies.  Not  only  was  England  asked 
to  fight  its  hereditary  enemy,  France,  but  it  was 
asked  to  succor  a  brave  people  who  had  thrown 
off  the  sway  of  a  ducal  ruler  and  had  gathered 
about  a  simple  Flandrish  burgher.  No  wonder 
that  the  plain  people  responded  enthusiastically 
to  this  call.  The  very  severity  that  Bishop  Spen 
cer  had  displayed  in  putting  down  the  Uprising  of 
the  summer  before  now  redounded  to  his  credit  — 
served  to  strengthen  their  confidence  in  him  as  a 
military  leader. 

Urban,  thoroughly  in  earnest  in  striking  a  tell 
ing  blow  against  Avignon,  now  outdid  himself  in 
his  concessions  to  those  who  poured  their  wealth 
and  treasure  at  his  feet.  Not  alone  was  absolution 
granted  them,  but  during  this  great  emergency 
it  became  possible  to  obtain  it  for  dead  friends 


340  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

and  relatives.  Here  was  a  masterly  stroke  indeed  ; 
for  who  could  hesitate  to  sacrifice  a  paltry  string 
of  jewels,  or  a  golden  goblet  or  two,  to  put  out 
the  flames  that  encompassed  a  beloved  one  ?  It 
would  seem  that,  did  the  treasure  cease  pouring 
from  castle  and  manor  for  a  single  day,  a  few  well- 
directed  sermons  dwelling  somewhat  fondly  on 
the  tortures  of  hell-fire  were  sufficient  to  make 
the  streams  gush  forth  again! 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  this  army  was  raised  and  equipped,  there 
rose  through  the  land  some  bold  voices  protesting 
that,  when  the  Lords  and  Knights  and  Bishops 
assembled  at  Westminster,  it  would  have  been 
better  had  they  redressed  the  wrongs  of  the  peas 
ants,  and  restored  quiet  and  order  to  the  realm  by 
wise  internal  regulations,  instead  of  turning  their 
eyes  across  the  seas  and  voting  moneys  for  a  war 
that  would  neither  raise  up  ruined  manor  houses 
nor  restore  wasted  lands.  Indeed,  Wyclif  and  his 
fast-growing  band  of  Lollards  cried  out  in  no 
uncertain  tones  that  the  whole  quarrel  between  the 
contending  Popes  had  to  do  only  with  worldly 
power  and  mastery,  which  was  entirely  unbefitting 
a  Pope  and  wholly  contrary  to  the  example  of 
Christ.  "  Neither  the  slaying  of  men  nor  the  im 
poverishment  of  whole  countries  can  be  the  out- 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         341 

come  of  love  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  sol 
emnly  enjoined  the  great  master,  who,  even  with 
the  hand  of  Death  upon  him,  remained  undaunted, 
suffering  only  his  body  to  be  conquered. 

While  the  people  of  Ely  had  shouted  them 
selves  hoarse,  and  swung  banners,  and  waved  ker 
chiefs,  two  quiet  figures  had  looked  sadly,  silently 
on,  a  man  and  a  woman.  They  had  watched  the 
triumphant  army  pass,  setting  the  dull  fenlancl 
ablaze  with  color  as  it  moved.  When  the  last 
thread  of  scarlet  was  caught  up  in  the  blue  haze 
where  the  sluggish  river  made  its  last  bend,  the 
couple  turned  their  faces  to  the  Cathedral.  As  they 
looked,  the  swamp  at  their  feet  suddenly  burst 
into  flame  and  then  as  suddenly  darkened  as  the 
red  sun  sank.  The  low  sparse  trees,  rising  from 
the  water,  blackened  against  the  horizon;  the 
orange  and  the  rose  slowly  faded  from  the  sky, 
the  violet-gray  pallor  of  the  night  creeping  over 
it.  The  rapture  of  day's  meeting  with  night  was 
over,  and  all  the  passion  burned  out.  A  few 
scattered  groups  of  villagers  passed  them  by, 
chatting  eagerly,  and  then  all  was  still.  The 
man  sighed  heavily.  The  woman  turned  to  him 
a  quiet  face,  full  of  resolute  courage.  If  there 
was  anything  to  mar  her  perfect  happiness,  it  was 
that  the  people  had  apparently  been  oblivious  of 


342  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

their  dissenting  presence.  Not  a  jeer  had 
sounded,  not  a  stone  had  been  thrown.  Sweeter 
far  to  her  than  an  ardent  meeting  of  their  own 
Lollard  followers  was  any  opportunity  —  however 
small  —  to  suffer  martyrdom  for  the  sacred  Cause. 
She  marvelled  greatly  when  news  came  to  her 
from  time  to  time  of  comrades  recanting  in  the 
face  of  torture.  She  would  have  counted  it  a 
blessed  privilege  to  die  for  the  Truth,  smiling 
into  the  eyes  of  her  tormentors. 

And  this  was  Ely!  Ah,  the  wonderful  old 
church!  even  in  the  gathering  darkness  it  still 
crowned  the  wide  landscape.  She  divined  the 
poignant  memories  that  were  stirring  in  her  hus 
band's  breast.  Twice  before  had  he  faced  Ely 
Minster,  —  once  proudly  defiant  on  the  threshold 
of  life,  once  stricken  in  the  bitter  consciousness 
of  defeat.  This  time  in  his  heart  was  neither 
defiance  nor  despair.  He  could  not  defy,  for  he 
looked  no  longer  on  the  Cathedral  as  an  enemy  to 
be  crushed,  but  as  a  force  to  be  yoked  into  service. 
If  there  was  some  condemnation  in  his  heart,  yet 
there  was  reverence  as  well.  Reverence,  for  he 
was  passionately  responsive  to  the  Mystery  and 
Power  before  him.  Impotent  indeed  he  believed 
the  new  religion  would  be  if  it  reckoned  not  with 
this  Power,  if  it  tossed  it  aside  as  worthless. 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         343 

Rather  should  it  forge  to  itself  with  imperishable 
links  the  mighty  forces  that  dwelt  in  that  stir 
ring  Presence. 

Neither  could  he  despair,  for  while  at  one  time 
he  had  worked  with  feverish  energy  in  the  stir 
ring  sight  of  a  fixed  goal,  now  he  had  learned  the 
difficult  lesson  of  working  on  in  perfect  courage 
and  perfect  steadfastness  for  an  end  which  he 
could  never  hope  to  see,  which  he  knew  could  be 
accomplished  only  by  God  in  the  fulness  of  His 
time. 

How  much  had  taken  place  in  the  twelvemonth 
that  had  passed  since  he  had  faced  Ely  Minster ! 
He  had  not  died  on  that  awful  night,  although  he 
had  thought  it  the  end  and  had  welcomed  it. 
But  he  had  gone  through  a  long  and  serious  ill 
ness.  Tenderly  nursed  by  Matilda,  and  safely 
hidden  from  those  who  were  going  about  the 
land  slaying  all  the  poor  priests  they  could  lay 
hands  on,  little  by  little  he  had  regained  his 
strength  until  he  could  endure  the  telling  of  the 
terrible  end  of  the  Uprising.  As  soon  as  he 
could,  he  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Lutterworth,  and 
there  had  a  last  solemn  talk  with  John  Wyclif. 
Once  more  he  took  up  the  threads  of  life,  once 
more  under  orders  from  his  old  master.  And 
with  his  bodily  ills  he  cast  off  those  of  his  moral 


344  ROBERT  ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

nature.  At  last  wholly  hers,  he  could  ask  Matilda 
to  be  his  wife  —  no  warring,  clamorous  instincts 
now,  his  whole  being  in  perfect  harmony  resolving 
itself  into  love  for  her. 

The  Uprising  was  a  thing  of  the  past.  It  had 
taken  more  than  forty  years  to  come,  a  few  swift 
days  had  seen  its  end.  For  one  brief  moment 
England  had  lain  at  the  feet  of  Piers  Ploughman, 
poor  Piers  never  less  truly  conqueror  than  then ! 
The  gaol  at  Maidstone  had  been  broken  into,  and 
John  Ball  placed  again  at  the  head  of  his  people ; 
the  palace  of  the  most  powerful  Duke  of  the  realm 
had  been  sacked  and  reduced  to  ashes ;  the  head  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Primate  of  all  Eng 
land,  had  grinned  from  the  top  of  London  bridge 
in  grim  companionship  with  the  murdered  Treas 
urer  of  the  nation.  On  the  top  of  the  pillory  in 
the  Bury  market-place,  the  lifeless  lips  of  the 
Chief  Justice  of  England  pressed  those  of  the 
Prior  of  the  Monastery  in  ghastly  jest  on 
the  league  between  Church  and  Law  against 
poor  Piers.  Yea,  all  England  at  the  feet  of  its 
rustics  —  and  to  what  end?  To  disperse  to  their 
homes,  drunk  with  joy  over  the  roseate  promises 
of  their  King.  The  true  value  of  a  King's  prom 
ise  was  to  be  learned  later.  Never  again  would  a 
King  be  to  them  quite  so  kingly,  since  one  had 


A  TALE   OF  THE   GREAT  UPRISING         345 

turned  the  faith  and  loyalty  of  his  people  against 
them  as  the  weapon  of  their  destruction.  The 
scores  of  clerks,  busily  writing  articles  of  manu 
mission  while  there  was  a  rioter  to  be  seen, 
were  soon  as  busily  engaged  in  writing  new  arti 
cles  of  bondage  more  galling  than  ever.  The 
free  pardon  of  all  who  had  taken  part  in  the 
Uprising,  which  the  King  so  readily  promised, 
meant  the  death  of  some  seven  thousands  of 
rebels,  among  them  beloved  John  Ball,  quartered 
and  hung  swaying  on  the  gates  of  St.  Alban's 
as  an  example  to  all. 

"  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them" 

Again  Robert  Annys  recalled  that  text  as  he 
stood  this  time  before  the  Cathedral.  But  no 
longer  it  agonized  him  as  on  that  night  when 
he  lay  prone  among  the  rushes.  Now  he  saw 
deeper  into  the  heart  of  things.  He  saw  that 
the  fruit  of  the  tree  is  the  fruit  not  alone  of  the 
leafy  bough  on  which  it  hangs,  nor  alone  of  the 
strong,  gnarled  trunk,  nor  alone  of  the  roots,  deep 
down  and  hidden ;  but  that  it  is  borne  alike  of  the 
kernel  that  has  taken  many  seasons  to  reach  the 
height  of  a  man,  alike  of  the  very  rainfalls  that 
have  fed  the  roots  with  the  salts  of  the  soil. 
Who  indeed  shall  ever  account  for  all  the  forces 


346  ROBERT   ANNYS :  POOR   PRIEST 

that  have  gone  to  redden  its  cheeks  and  sweeten 
its  juices  ? 

The  Uprising  had  failed  because  the  people 
were  not  yet  ready  for  success.  They  had  failed 
in  self-command,  and  therefore  had  grievously 
failed  to  command  others.  It  was  hard  to  look 
into  the  future  with  any  show  of  bravery  when 
one  realized  how  much,  how  much  the  people 
must  learn,  how  much  work  there  was  to  be  done 
by  a  few  strong,  patient  souls.  And  yet,  to  Rob 
ert  Annys  the  very  failure  of  the  Uprising  had 
within  it  something  precious.  He  believed  that 
if  no  slightest  seed  may  fall  to  the  ground  un 
heeded,  surely  the  earnest  efforts  of  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  men  could  not  be  suffered  to 
fall  barren  upon  Eternity. 

And  he  was  right.  Who  shall  ever  say  all  that 
was  done  or  not  done  by  that  wonderful  outspeak 
ing  of  the  heart  of  the  English  peasantry  more 
than  half  a  thousand  years  ago  —  that  stirring 
voice  sinking  again  into  silence  as  mysteriously 
as  it  arose  ?  And  yet  who  shall  say  that  it  was 
hushed  ?  Is  it  not  nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  it 
was  held  in  the  air,  vibrating  down  through  the 
centuries,  silent  unto  Man,  only  until  such  time 
as  his  ears  were  attuned  to  hearken  ? 

Indeed,  easier  is  it  to  trace  the  tall  waving 


A  TALE   OF   THE   GREAT   UPRISING          347 

corn  back  to  the  tiny,  hard  grain  that  was  tossed 
upon  the  waiting  earth ;  easier  to  trace  the  proud 
mast  that  cleaves  the  air  high  up  over  the  seas, 
back  to  the  pine  cone's  quiet  fall ;  easier  to  trace 
the  broad  flowing  river,  ship-studded,  artery  of 
great,  toiling  cities,  to  the  hidden  pool  where  the 
trout  leap  and  the  deer  come  down  to  drink,  — 
than  to  trace  through  the  remotest  Past  the  mys 
terious  ebb  and  flow,  the  wonderful  crossing  and 
recrossing,  of  the  springs  of  Human  Action. 

In  truth  no  historian  may  ever  tell  of  the  end 
of  the  Great  Uprising,  for  it  had  no  end,  but  it 
goeth  ever  on  and  on. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  UNREST 


BY 
GWENDOLEN    OVERTON 

Cloth.     i2mo.     $1.50 


A  novel  of  the  army  on  the  frontier  during  the  time  of  the  Indian 
outbreaks  under  Geronimo  and  others  in  the  late  seventies.  His 
torically  the  book  is  valuable  —  though  this  is  nearly  forgotten  in 
its  interest  —  as  a  picture  of  scenes  that  can  never  be  repeated ;  a 
book  which  American  social  literature  could  ill  afford  to  lose  — 
while  it  is  also  an  absorbing  love  story. 


"  A  picture  of  the  great  West  —  the  West  of  the  days  of  the 
Apache  raids  —  clear  and  vivid."  —  Baltimore  Sun. 

" '  The  Heritage  of  Unrest '  is  a  remarkable  book,  and  in  all 
respects  it  is  an  interesting  departure  from  the  current  line  of 
fiction.  It  is  a  story  of  American  army  life  fully  matching  the 
frontier  sketches  of  Owen  Wister,  and  told  with  such  touches  of 
offhand  colloquialism,  now  and  again,  as  might  mark  the  work  of  a 
Yankee  Kipling."  —  New  York  World. 

"In  every  respect  —  character,  plot,  style,  scenes,  descriptions, 
and  personages  —  the  book  is  unconventional  .  .  .  refreshing." 

—  Boston  Herald. 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


IN   THE   PALACE   OF   THE    KING 

H  Love  Story  of  Old  Madrid 

By  F.    MARION    CRAWFORD 

Author  of  "  Via  Cruets"  "  Saracinesca"  eic. 

Illustrated  by  FRED  ROE 
Cloth.       12mo.      $1.50 


"  Marion  Crawford's  latest  story,  '  In  the  Palace  of  the  King,'  is  quite 
up  to  the  level  of  his  best  works  for  cleverness,  grace  of  style,  and  sus 
tained  interest.  It  is,  besides,  to  some  extent  a  historical  story,  the  scene 
being  the  royal  palace  at  Madrid,  and  the  author  drawing  the  characters 
of  Philip  II.  and  Don  John  of  Austria  with  an  attempt,  in  a  broad,  im 
pressionist  way,  at  historic  faithfulness.  His  reproduction  of  the  life  at 
the  Spanish  court  is  as  brilliant  and  picturesque  as  any  of  his  Italian 
scenes,  and  in  minute  study  of  detail  is,  in  a  real  and  valuable  sense,  true 
history."  —  The  Advance. 

"  Mr.  Crawford  has  taken  a  love  story  of  vital  interest  and  has  related 
the  web  of  facts  simply,  swiftly,  and  with  moderation  ...  a  story  as 
brilliant  as  it  is  romantic  in  its  setting.  Here  his  genius  for  story  telling 
is  seen  at  its  best."  —  Boston  Herald. 

"  For  sustained  intensity  and  graphic  description  Marion  Crawford's  new 
novel  is  inapproachable  in  the  field  of  recent  fiction."  —  Times  Union,  Albany. 

"  Don  John  of  Austria's  secret  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  one  of 
King  Philip's  officers  is  the  culminating  point  of  this  story.  ...  An 
assassination,  a  near  approach  to  a  palace  revolution,  a  great  scandal, 
and  some  very  pretty  love-making,  besides  much  planning  and  plotting, 
take  place."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Mr.  Crawford  wastes  no  time  in  trying  to  re-create  history,  but  puts 
his  reader  into  the  midst  of  those  bygone  scenes  and  makes  him  live  in 
them.  .  .  .  In  scenes  of  stirring  dramatic  intensity.  .  .  .  It  all  seems  in 
tensely  real  so  long  as  one  is  under  the  novelist's  spell."  — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  No  man  lives  who  can  endow  a  love  tale  with  a  rarer  charm  than 
Crawford."  —  San  Francisco  Evening  Bulletin. 

"No  book  of  the  season  has  been  more  eagerly  anticipated,  and  none 
has  given  more  complete  satisfaction  ...  a  drama  of  marvellous  power 
and  exceptional  brilliancy,  forceful  and  striking  .  .  .  holding  the  reader's 
interest  spell-bound  from  the  first  page  of  the  story  to  the  last,  reached 
all  too  soon."  —  The  Augusta  Herald. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66   FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW  YORK 


THE    LIFE    AND    DEATH    OF 
RICHARD    YEA    AND    NAY 

By  MAURICE   HEWLETT 

Author  of  "  The  Forest  Lovers,"  "  Little  Novels  of  Italy?  etc. 

Cloth.     12mo.     $1.50 


"  The  hero  of  Mr.  Hewlett's  latest  novel  is  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  whose 
character  is  peculiarly  suited  to  the  author's  style.  It  is  on  a  much  wider 
plan  than  '  The  Forest  Lovers,'  and  while  not  historical  in  the  sense  of 
attempting  to  follow  events  with  utmost  exactness,  it  will  be  found  to  give 
an  accurate  portrayal  of  the  life  of  the  day,  such  as  might  well  be  expected 
from  the  author's  previous  work.  There  is  a  varied  and  brilliant  back 
ground,  the  scene  shifting  from  France  to  England,  and  also  to  Palestine. 
In  a  picturesque  way,  and  a  way  that  compels  the  sympathies  of  his  readers, 
Mr.  Hewlett  reads  into  the  heart  of  King  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion,  showing 
how  he  was  torn  by  two  natures  and  how  the  title  '  Yea  and  Nay '  was 
peculiarly  significant  of  his  character."  —  Boston  Herald. 

"  The  tale  by  itself  is  marvellously  told  ;  full  of  luminous  poetry  ; 
intensely  human  in  its  passion  ;  its  style,  forceful  and  picturesque  ;  its 
background,  a  picture  of  beauty  and  mysterious  loveliness  ;  the  whole, 
radiant  with  the  very  spirit  of  romanticism  as  lofty  in  tone  and  as  serious 
in  purpose  as  an  epic  poem.  It  is  a  book  that  stands  head  and  shoulders 
above  the  common  herd  of  novels  —  the  work  of  a  master  hand."  — 
Indianapolis  News. 

"  Mr.  Hewlett  has  done  one  of  the  most  notable  things  in  recent  litera 
ture,  a  thing  to  talk  about  with  abated  breath,  as  a  bit  of  master-craftsman 
ship  touched  by  the  splendid  dignity  of  real  creation."  —  The  Interior. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66   FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


THE   REIGN   OF   LAW 

H  €alc  of  the  Kentucky  ftempfldde 

By  JAMES    LANE   ALLEN 

Author  of  "The  Choir  Invisible,"  "A  Kentucky  Cardinal,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  J.  C.  EARL  and  HARRY  FENN 
Cloth.       12mo.      $1.50 


"  The  whole  book  is  a  brilliant  defence  of  Evolution,  a  scholarly  state 
ment  of  the  case.  Never  before  has  that  great  science  been  so  presented; 
never  before  has  there  been  such  a  passionate  yet  thrilling  appeal." 

—  Courier  Journal. 

"  This  is  a  tremendous  subject  to  put  into  a  novel  ;  but  the  effort  is  so 
daring,  and  the  treatment  so  frank  and  masterly  on  its  scientific  side,  that 
the  book  is  certain  to  command  a  wide  hearing,  perhaps  to  provoke  wide 
controversy."  —  Tribune,  Chicago. 

' '  When  a  man  has  heard  the  great  things  calling  to  him,  how  they  call, 
and  call,  day  and  night,  day  and  night ! '  This  is  really  the  foundation  idea, 
the  golden  text,  of  Mr.  James  Lane  Allen's  new  and  remarkable  novel." 

—  Evening  Transcript,  Boston. 

"  In  all  the  characteristics  that  give  Mr.  Allen's  novels  such  distinction 
and  charm  'The  Reign  of  Law'  is  perhaps  supreme  ...  but  it  is  pre 
eminently  the  study  of  a  soul  .  .  .  religion  is  here  the  dominant  note." 

—  The  New  York  Times1  Saturday  Review, 

"  In  David  there  is  presented  one  of  the  noblest  types  of  our  fiction  ; 
the  incarnation  of  brilliant  mentality  and  splendid  manhood.  ...  No 
portrait  in  contemporary  literature  is  more  symbolic  of  truth  and  honor." 

—  The  Times,  Louisville. 

"  Mr.  Allen  has  a  style  as  original  and  almost  as  perfectly  finished  as 
Hawthorne's,  and  he  has  also  Hawthorne's  fondness  for  spiritual  sug 
gestion  that  makes  all  his  stories  rich  in  the  qualities  that  are  lacking  in  so 
many  novels  of  the  period.  ...  If  read  in  the  right  way,  it  cannot  fail 
to  add  to  one's  spiritual  possessions."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66   FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


Ff_Bt8196T9* 

F?  -"" 

1''V:       •       !            '     -. 

LOAN  DEPT. 

xriXU-T     °0 

ftpRP.Z2  1987 

*&**^ 

&#** 

rvE^  '         ' 
KtC'D  LD     ^tt  1 

^70  -5PM  70 

MAR    I1983l2b 

rec'd  circ.  FEB  2  4  1983 

LD  21A-60m-7,'66 
(G4427slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDSSD53ED1 


M141180 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


